


Bloodstream

by RagAndBones (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, FrostIron - Freeform, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/RagAndBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki Odinson is a dark, pale mystery, plagued with demons from his past. Tony Stark is an arrogant, popular jerk who’s about as alone as anyone can get. When they meet, they each recognize something in the other that gets beneath their skin and plagues their thoughts. They need each other, whether they know it or not, but they have a long way to go before they’re ready.<br/>Frostiron. High school AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloodstream

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings: Frostiron, possible Clintasha, maybe others...?
> 
> Warnings: Substance abuse, self-harm, underage drinking and smoking and sex, and a whole lotta angst. Oh, and gay stuff too. ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_Words can feel like knives, they can cut you open_

_And the silence surrounds you and haunts you_

_I think I might have inhaled you_

_I can feel you behind my eyes_

_You’ve gotten into my bloodstream_

_I can feel you flowing in me_

_\- Bloodstream_ by Stateless

* * *

He waits under the red hexagon of a stop sign, hunched against the rain. His long fingers worry the locket between them, black fingernails rubbing the worn brass. Loki knows its every contour by heart, and clutches at it only to remind himself that he hasn’t forgotten.

A flash of yellow flickers through the trees in the distance and he slips the pendant back into his pocket. It nestles below his hip familiarly as he mounts the steps of the school bus. Taking a seat in the back, he puts his headphones in his ears and tries to drown out the feeling that he’s missing something.

* * *

 

“Have you heard about the new kid?”

He looks up from his sandwich at Clint, who’s practically vibrating above him. Tony tries, he really does, but sometimes he just can’t keep up with the smaller blonde boy.

“What? Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Clint plops next to him gracelessly, nearly landing on his lunch. “So, have you heard of him?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” Tony replies in a practiced bored drawl.

He mumbles something through his mouthful of sandwich, and Tony replies with a blank stare. Clint, bless his little heart, gets his feathers all ruffled just thinking about new gossip or rumors, though he wouldn’t be one to admit it. Tony, on the other hand, couldn’t care less, and listens only to humor the other boy.

Clint continues, and excited glimmer in his eye. “Apparently he was expelled from his old school.”

“For what?”

This is answered with a violent shrug. “I dunno, but they’re also saying that he’s involved in some kind of drug dealing ring. Or he’s actually an arsonist that burned down his old school.”

“Neither of those are even remotely plausible,” Bruce says, appearing next to Tony. He pulls an apple out of his paper lunch bag and nibbles on it.

“How would you know?” Clint demands, offended.

“I sit next to him in Bio. He didn’t burn down his old school, because he went to Stane.”

“Stane, as in the fancy private school?” Clint asks.

“No, Clint, Stane the donut shop,” Tony replies, his tone bitingly sarcastic. “Of course the school. Anyway, what’s the big deal with him going to Stane?”

“Because it’s interesting, don’t you think, that his brother goes here? And that he’s switching into our class mid-November.” Bruce says.

Now Tony is thoroughly confused. “What? Brother, what?”

Bruce gives Clint a scathing glance. “You didn’t tell him?”

The blond boy shrugs. “I was saving the best bit for last.”

“Tell me what? Who’s his brother?”

Both Clint and Bruce speak in unison, their voices grave. “Thor Odinson.”

“Thor, as in the big blonde bimbo football player, Steve’s friend?”

“Yep,” Clint says.

Tony pauses a moment, thinking. “Wait, so why does he go here if his brother went to Stane? And why did he switch schools if Stane is better? And what’s with the drug ring rumor? I can’t imagine Thor having anything to do with drugs. I mean, the guy is crazy enough, I wouldn’t want to go adding extra chemicals to the mix-”

“Tony.” Bruce holds up his hand. “You’re blathering again.”

“Sorry,” Tony says. “Why’d he switch?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce replies. “He doesn’t talk much. I can’t entirely discount the expulsion rumor, though. He kind of looks like a mess. He’s very different from Thor.”

“How so?”

“Well, he’s skinny and tall and has black hair,” Clint supplies. “And he looks like he’s been through hell, actually. Like really dark bags under his eyes. He’s really scary-looking.”

“Interesting,” Tony says. He tries to imagine a scary-looking Thor, but can’t call an image into his mind.

Suddenly, the bell rings, and Tony gathers his things with a sweep of his arm. He’s about to wave goodbye when something occurs to him. “Wait, Bruce. What’s his name?”

Bruce gives a small smile, like he knows something Tony doesn’t.

“Loki.”

* * *

 

Loki’s taken up a seat in the back, hood pulled carefully over his head, trying to be as invisible as possible when the bell rings. The teacher begins to talk, but Loki’s thinking, not listening, and so he doesn’t hear it when she speaks to him.

“Loki,” She repeats. “Loki Odinson?”

He cringes internally at the name. “I’m here,” he says.

“All right, Loki, why don’t you come introduce yourself to us.” She gestures for him to come and stand beside her.

He hesitates. He knows that this is the moment that decides who he will be to these people, all depending on what he says. He stands, sweeping off his hood fluidly as he goes to position himself next to the teacher at the front of the room. _A fresh start_ , the familiar voice echoes in his head.

“Hello,” he says, unsure. “I’m Loki.”

“And where are you from?” the teacher supplies, a helpful smile on her face.

Loki scans the desks with his sly green eyes, alighting on a few faces here and there. A girl with fiery red hair sits near the front, regarding him coolly. A boy, tall and handsome and obviously popular, taps his pencil on the desk. Another boy doodles in his notebook, dishevelled brown hair tufting from the top of his head.

“I’m from England, originally. Moved to the US when I was seven.” Loki says, eyes on the brown-haired boy. He realizes he’s the only one in his class who isn’t looking at him.

“Are you related to Thor?” a voice says.

Loki swallows his loathing. “Yes. I’m his brother.”

A ripple of conversation passes over the classroom, whispers being thrown across the desks. Loki sees as the brown-haired boy looks up, and for a moment he’s lost in deep toffee-colored eyes. He quickly looks away, unpleasant memories rising to the surface like bile.

“All right, Loki,” the teacher says. “Take a seat. Class, quiet down.”

Loki slides back into his seat, his belly pooling into a pit of worry.

The brunette boy’s gaze follows him back, unflinchingly curious. Loki returns it in kind, and they hold each others’ stares for a heartbeat. Suddenly the coffee-colored eyes flick away, but not without a small smile.

Loki, unsure of the bizarre exchange that had just happened between himself and a total stranger, tries to drown out the drone of the teacher as best he can.

* * *

 

Standing in front of the classroom, Loki is nothing like Tony expected.

His black, tousled hair is brushed back from his face by long fingers, and his face is hollower and cheekbones sharper. Tony examines his angular features, finding long dark lashes under smooth brows. But what really strikes Tony are his eyes, sly and heavy-lidded. They’re bloodshot, dark circles ringing each that he can’t tell are from fatigue or something more sinister. Maybe both. His eyes look like they’ve seen too much, and aren’t quite ready to forget.

They turn to meet Tony’s, poison-green and flecked with gold. They linger briefly before moving on, and then Loki’s moving back to his seat.

Tony watches him, impossibly curious. Loki meets his gaze again, and holds it fearlessly rather than looking away. Tony gives a small smile at his boldness and returns his eyes to the front of the room.

As the teacher talks, Tony sneaks glances at Loki sitting slouched in the back of the room.

Clint was right in saying the guy looks like he’s been through hell. Loki’s expression is so... defeated. The shadows that cast themselves across his fine face are almost sickly, and his hunched shoulders look like he’s trying to keep the world from touching him.

Loki looks up and their eyes meet again. This time, the green narrows in suspicion and distrust. Tony makes a face at him and looks away.

* * *

 

Loki is plagued by toffee-colored eyes in his sleep that night, all friendly and kind and wanting him, wanting to get to know him. It’s as close to a good dream as he’s had in a long time, and when he wakes in the middle of the night, the pleasant feeling in his belly is so unfamiliar he can’t fall back into sleep.


	2. Something Good Can Work

_We're moving up, we're moving up_

_It's been a lot to change_   
_But you will always get what you want_

_Took a little time to make it a little better_   
_It's only going out, just one thing and another_   
_You know, you know_

_\- Something Good Can Work_ by Two Door Cinema Club _  
_

* * *

Tony comes to school the next day with a mission: he's going to find out everything he can about this Loki person, and that means talking to Thor.

Tony is a social butterfly. He usually eats lunch with Clint and Bruce, though. Steve, however, likes to switch between eating with Tony and his friends from the football team. For some reason, Steve had even more friends than Tony. Maybe it had something to do with his not being a conceited asshole.

"Hey, Steve," Tony says as he approaches their lunch table.

"Hey Tony. You, uh... you eating with us today? You don't usually-"

"Variety is the spice of life, Steven. Scooch your ass." He taps on Steve's well-muscled shoulder and slides in between him and some other, equally fit tall kid. "Hi, Thor," he adds, waving at the blonde stuffing his face across the table. Thor Odinson could be called many things. Dainty was not one of them.

"Hello, Stark!" Thor practically shouts, food flying out of his mouth. "What makes you join us for lunch today?"

"Actually- no offense, Steve -I came to talk to you."

Thor smiles, and that's when Tony can tell why Steve hangs out with him so much. It's a smile that is totally, completely genuine, and you can immediately see that Thor doesn't have a bad bone in his body. Both he and Steve are so trusting, their faces so open, hearts worn on their sleeves. No wonder they got along so well.

"What can I do for you, Stark? How may I assist you in your endeavor, whatever it may be?" This was the reason Steve was Tony's friend and not Thor- although Steve's slang was at least sixty years out of date, someone talking like they came out of a seventeenth century romance novel was only tolerable for a few sentences.

"I'm here to talk to you about your brother, Loki."

Suddenly, Thor's grin falls off his face, replaced by an expression so shattered that he looks like a different person. Thor leans forward, and his voice is quiet and grave. "What has he done?"

Tony is so surprised by this reaction that he takes a moment to respond. "He hasn't done anything."

Thor furrows his brow, confused. "Then what is it you want with my brother?"

"I was wondering what you could tell me about him," Tony says slowly. Steve shakes his head very subtly next to him, but Tony ignores it.

Thor's usually open expression is wary, untrusting. "He is someone you should not associate yourself with."

Tony's curiosity was always one of his biggest downfalls. "Why? What happened?" Steve bumps his knee urgently, head shaking getting less subtle with every sentence.

Thor's face is dark, pained. "I'd rather not speak on the matter."

"Aw, c'mon- ow!" Steve stomps on his foot. "Tony, enough." His blue eyes are large and pleading.

Tony plows on, ignoring Steve. "I'm just curious. He doesn't seem anything like you."

Thor's friendly, clear eyes cloud somberly. "He and I do not get along. He is... difficult to understand."

"How so?"

Steve, obviously giving up on his efforts to steer Tony away from this topic of conversation, gets up to get more food.

"He has no concern for the effects his actions cause for others around him. I would try to avoid him, he only ends up hurting the people he knows." This last statement is delivered in an almost-whisper, Thor's eyes boring desperately into Tony's own.

Tony searches Thor's face, but he has apparently given him as many details as he's going to get. "Well, Thor, thanks for the tip. I'll keep away from the guy." He stands, grabbing his empty lunch tray.

The blonde gives a small smile, somewhat reassured. "That is good, Stark. I wish the best upon you."

"You too, buddy," he says, patting Thor's huge arm.

On his way to class, Tony ponders what Thor said. It gives him an uneasy feeling, though he's not sure why. His phrases had been oddly familiar.

Someone bumps into him, apologizing. He recognizes the voice,, and when Tony turns, he sees the face of Pepper Potts.

"Tony," she says, somewhat breathlessly.

"Hey, Pep," he responds awkwardly.

Though it was nearly three months ago, his and Pepper's breakup still left scars that throbbed whenever he saw her around school. Theirs had been deemed a perfect relationship; everyone in their year had just taken their togetherness as a fact of life. But the breakup had been unexpected, at least on Tony's part, and had changed his world. Maybe it had been the first time someone had broken up with him rather than the other way around. Either way, it had taken a few weeks, a pile of terrible action flicks, and an ungodly amount of ice cream to get him back on his feet (courtesy of Clint, Bruce, and Steve).

"How are you?" she asks, and Tony can tell she still feels a bit guilty. Good.

"Oh, you know," he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Ok," Pepper responds, unsure. "Listen, I- um, I've got to go."

"Yeah, okay," Tony says, giving her a measly wave. "Bye."

"Bye," she says quietly, turning with a swish of her skirt.

Back on his way to class, Tony stalks past the beige lockers, hands in pockets. Suddenly, it hits him. The reason why Thor's phrase had been so naggingly familiar.

_Tony, you never think about other people, you only care about yourself! You never think about what impact your decisions have on everyone around you. I can't live with this anymore. I can't deal with you anymore, Tony._

He stops walking, leaning against the lockers.  _Pepper._  Pepper had said nearly the exact same thing to him before they broke up, and now apparently Loki had the same problem. Maybe they should form a little club, with shirts that say _Caution: emotionally dangerous. Keep away._

The bell chimes through the hall. He jumps nervously: he's been late six times already (this month). Ms. Hill is threatening detention if he makes it seven.

He breaks into a run to the math hallway.

* * *

Loki arrives to English late, a pass in hand. He hates being late. It means you have to walk in, all eyes on you, and find a seat usually next to the person you wanted to sit with the least.

That was exactly the case when he strode purposefully into the classroom, handing crumpled pass over and scanning the desks for an empty seat. He catches sight of one, but it's next to the brunette boy from yesterday. After a brief and futile search for another spot, he sighs quietly and slides into the chair.

He watches from the corner of his vision as tawny eyes search his features for slightly longer than necessary. As soon as he sees the brown-haired boy turn his gaze, he slides his own green eyes to look more closely at this curious stranger.

The first thing he notices is that this boy has an apparent incapability of brushing his hair at all. It looks like he slept on it, sticking up at awkward angles and tufting from the back of his head. Despite its messy appearance, it looks soft, Loki's fingers twitching to touch it.

The other boy also has a well-trimmed beard; rather impressively full for a high-schooler. Paired with long, thick brown eyelashes and a devilish smirk, he's exactly Loki's type.

Loki scowls. It's unfair, he's always been attracted to the ones he can't have.

"-Loki, are you listening?"

"What?" he says, gaze snapping up to the teacher. "I wasn't listening."

"Yes, I can see that," she responds, irritated. "I was explaining the activity that will take up the remainder of the hour as well as this weekend. We'll be analyzing some poems from various well-known authors. You'll be working in pairs."

"Can we choose our partners?" brown-haired boy asks.

"Yes, but-"

Suddenly there's a mad dash, friends racing across the room to sit next to each other. Loki doesn't move; he doesn't even know anyone's name, let alone want to work with them. If he's lucky, he'll get to work by himself.

"Is there anyone left without a partner?" the teacher asks as soon as the classroom has settled.

Immediately Loki raises his hand. To his dismay, however, so does the brown-haired boy.

"Perfect," the teacher says, "looks like you two will be working together."

Brunette boy looks over to Loki with a satisfied smirk. Loki's scowl deepens.

"So," brunette boy says, holding out his hand beneath a satisfied smirk, "I'm Tony. Tony Stark, as in the son of Howard Stark. You might have heard of me."

Loki raises one eyebrow scornfully. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Actually, yes," Stark says, unashamed. "This usually works."

"Mmm," Loki responds.

"So, poetry," Stark continues. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

Loki pulls the sheet of paper towards him, scanning the printed words. "We have to annotate this poem and then write an analysis over the weekend."

"Ugh. I hate poetry."

"My sentiments exactly," Loki lies.

"What poem?"

"Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas."

"Sounds boring." Stark snatches the sheet of paper from his hand, eyes scanning the page. Once he finishes, he pushes it over towards Loki and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Here, you read it. I'll wait."

Loki does as he's asked. He reads it twice, the words washing over him in a familiar flow of meaning.

_Do not go gentle into that good night,_   
_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_   
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_   
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_   
_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_   
_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_And you, my father, there on that sad height,_   
_Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

Stark cracks open one eye, giving Loki an expecting glance. "Well?" he says. "I have no idea what the hell it's about, personally. "

Loki doesn't hear him, his eyes distant. The words and phrases tumble around in his mind, filling the holes in his thoughts and teasing out ancient memories. Flickers of images appear in his mind's eye: a razor, white lilies. A bottle of fat white pills, half empty. A neat row of scars, thin and barely healed.

A fiery crash. A piercing wail, a whispered promise.

"Yo, hello? Earth to space cadet." Stark waves his hand in front of Loki's nose, snapping him out of his reverie.

"It's about death," Loki says quietly.

"Aren't most poems about death or something depressing?"

Loki gives an exasperated sigh. "This one's not depressing."

"But you said it was about death."

Loki examines Stark with scathing green eyes. "Death is not always depressing, Stark. This poem is about resisting death, about doing all you can to escape it before it consumes you."

Stark nods his head solemnly, looking like he's pondering something. "So that's the 'rage, rage against the dying of the light' part. Huh."

"Exactly."

* * *

"It's still kind of a downer," Tony says, and the expression on Loki's face is hilarious. He looks like someone just stole his parking space. "So we need to write an analysis this weekend, right? We can just explain what it's about. Will we need to meet or something?"

"I suppose," Loki replies. He looks like he's not listening, like his brain is elsewhere.

"Cool. You can come to my house on Sunday; my dad's getting back from his trip on Saturday and he'll be gone again by then."

Green eyes snap back to reality. "Your house?"

Tony smiles as reassuringly as he can. "Yep."

Loki looks somewhat pained, but agrees as the bell rings.

Just as Tony's about to leave, he feels a gentle touch on his elbow. Looking down he realizes the black-nailed hand belongs to a certain green-eyed boy.

"What time should I arrive? On Sunday?"

Tony grins at Loki. "Two."

Loki nods, pushing past him and into the hall where he is swallowed up by students.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, fabulous readers!
> 
> So I've been plotting this story, and I have to tell you: you guys are in for the long haul. I'm talking like 30 plush chapters here. Woah.
> 
> I've also decided to keep my chapters pretty short and update more often.
> 
> Finally, every chapter from now on will be named after a song. At the end, I'll post a full list, so it'll be a playlist! Yay! Though, as a fair warning, I have an eclectic taste in music.
> 
> This week's song is Something Good Can Work by Two Door Cinema Club. I'll usually put lyrics or something at the top.
> 
> Love you!  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. More reviews = faster updates. Please review! They put me in the writing mood!


	3. Try To Sleep

_You stretch your wings_  
 _You take a breath_  
 _You hide your feet_  
 _Embrace your head_  
 _A tragedy_  
 _No, there's never enough_  
 _You try to sleep_  
 _But then you never wake up_  
 _-Try To Sleep_ by Low

* * *

Loki doesn't sleep if he can help it.

When he lays his head on the pillow, curled tight beneath a fluffy blanket, he finds nothing but dread and worry. When his body is still and his mind calm, his brain sorts through the pages of his history, replaying and revisiting his darkest moments. The moments he regrets so deeply it aches; the moments he would do anything not to have experienced; the choices made that haunt him every day.

If sleep happens to find him, and it rarely does, he is plagued with nightmares of endless funerals and angry ghosts. His dreams are often nonsensical but incredibly vivid and when he wakes he isn't sure of the time or place. What scares him most, however, is that he can almost never remember the visions that terrify him. He wakes from these nightmares screaming and sweating, heart beating furiously in his rib cage. It used to be that Thor would find him in his room like this, clutching the blankets to his pale chest and do his best to comfort his little brother. But now, when Loki wakes to the sound of his own cries, he is totally alone.

* * *

On Saturday night, he sits on the couch, watching a TV movie to stay awake and distracted. He looks over his homework half-heartedly, mind elsewhere.

He attended his last school for several years and is finding it difficult to be the new kid, especially when he hadn't been to a public school since junior high. However it's going as he had expected: Mostly he's ignored, though he had heard a few ridiculous rumors circulating about him and his past. He smirks.  _If only they knew._

And then there's Stark. He is the exception, the outlier in his experience. Stark seemed to have an interest in him somehow, and enough spunk to ask Thor about it. When Thor had come home from school that day, he demanded what it was that Loki wanted with Stark and had informed him that this total stranger had been quizzing the blonde about his dark-haired brother. Loki, confused, had not even known Stark's name and wasn't able to put a face to the name until Stark introduced himself.

It's interesting, the way that Stark doesn't seem to be afraid of him at all. Loki's other classmates shrink from his intensity, staring and talking about him only when they think he can't see. Even his own brother is apprehensive of him. But Stark met his gaze and challenged it, a cocky smirk twisting his full lips.

Loki's skin flushes at the thought of Stark's lips, a heat crawling into his chest and sending his heart thumping. He runs a delicate hand through his raven hair, pulling it back from his face. Tugging a blanket over his thin shoulders, he closes his eyes and settles into the couch.

Soon, sleep takes him quietly.

* * *

_He rings the doorbell of Stark's home, hearing the chime reverberate throughout the house. The door swings open, and Stark is there, dressed in a fitted black tank top and jeans. He takes Loki's hand wordlessly, leading him into the massive entryway of his mansion._

_Suddenly, they're in Stark's room. A large, plush bed dominates the space and Stark takes a seat on the edge, patting the spot next to him. Loki sits reluctantly. Stark curls an arm around his waist, pulling the raven-haired boy flush against his body. A tan, calloused thumb brushes his cheekbone and Loki's lashes flutter closed as Stark's lips meet his own. They move together, tugging and pushing against each other. Stark's tongue finds his, making Loki groan into the other's mouth._

_Stark pulls him into his lap, Loki straddling his hips. He can feel Stark smile against his lips and he arches his back further into the kiss. The brunette boy coaxes him onto the mattress, pinning him down with strong arms. Stark leans down, close to the shell of his pale ear, and whispers gently._

" _I know what you did."_

_He can feel Stark grab something out of the back of his belt, holding it above Loki's head. It glints in the low light, long and sharp and deadly._

" _I know what you did to Victor and Aurora."_

_The knife moves closer to his throat, as dangerous as the smile on Stark's face._

" _I know what you did to your father."_

_He can almost feel its blade against his skin. Loki struggles against Stark's hands, but they're too strong._

" _I know what you did to Thor."_

_The knife presses against his throat, its cold edge digging into his flesh. Loki whimpers, looking into Stark's merciless eyes._

" _And I know what you did to your mother."_

_The pain burns bright against the inside of his skull and he can feel the blood trickle down his neck, wet and thick and sticky. Stark's laugh is the last thing he hears as darkness creeps into the edges of his vision, pulling him into unconsciousness._

Loki starts awake with a gasp, sweat dotting his forehead. He sits up, eyes bleary, trying to get his bearings. He clutches at his chest, fingers creeping up to feel his throat for blood. It comes away pale and clean and he breathes a sigh of relief. He can still feel the ghost of Stark's lips against his own, soft and seductive. He wipes his mouth in an effort to forget.

He glances at the clock, sighing deeply at the early hour. Swinging his legs off the couch, he shuffles to the bathroom to take a shower.

The water is scalding. Steam billows up from the shower head and he scrubs his skin until it's raw, wanting the nightmare off his flesh and down the drain.

Not all of it, though. He runs his hand through his wet hair, remembering Stark's caress against his skin. He longs to feel it again, hungry for the sensation of that warm, tan skin against his own.

Suddenly, pale blue eyes and delicate features appear in his mind's eye, driving away the longing in his belly. He scowls at the memory, raking his black nails across his arms. His hands stop at the wrists, tracing across horizontal pink lines absentmindedly.

He grabs a fluffy towel off the rack and knots it around his waist, making his way to his cluttered bedroom to dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> This is one of my favorite chapters so far. And the song is really, really good, please listen to it. It kind of fits this chapter perfectly, and not just the lyrics, but the mood too.
> 
> I'm going to be updating (usually) on Fridays from now on.
> 
> Thanks to all my wonderful readers, and my wonderbeta, cara-tanaka!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	4. About Today

_How close am I to losing you_

_Tonight you just close your eyes_

_And I just watch you_

_Slip away_

-  _About Today_ by The National

* * *

Loki pushes the button tentatively. He can hear the muffled chime through the door as he shuffles his feet in an awkward dance. His messenger bag weighs heavily on one shoulder, the strap cutting into his muscles.

Suddenly there are footsteps on the other side of the door and it swings open, a flustered-looking Stark on the other side. Catching sight of Loki, he breaks into a wide grin and pushes the glass door open. "Hi. Come on in."

"Hello," Loki responds, gaze raking up and down Stark's body despite himself. He's dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a tight black t-shirt, his feet bare and his hair tousled, as always. Loki admires the muscles of Stark's arms rippling beneath the surface of his skin. His chest is strong and thick and his jeans hug his narrow waist.

Loki's lips tingle, reminding him of his dream. He reddens slightly.

"So," Stark says. "You hungry? I can make popcorn or something."

"That would be nice," Loki says in return as he follows the other boy to the kitchen.

Stark's house is absolutely gargantuan. Loki had walked to it; it wasn't too far from his own and he wanted to be out in the snow for a bit. When he had approached it, he needed to check the map several times before deciding that yes, Tony Stark is filthy rich and lives in a huge mansion.

He had researched Stark's father the night before, curious that he hadn't heard of such a man. He had learned that Howard Stark was one of the greatest engineers of all time, and that his son was following closely in his footsteps as a genius in the field of science and technology.

Loki imagines what it would be like if his history had been so easy to access. He wouldn't be ignored at school, certainly, but the attention he would receive would most certainly not be good.

"I can't stand microwave popcorn, so you'll just have to wait until I make the old-fashioned kind."

"All right," Loki says. After a pause, he adds, "Your house is impressive."

"I'm glad you think so," Stark replies as he pours oil and popcorn kernels into a large pot on the stove. "I like it, but it's kind of lonely when I'm here all by myself. But I have Jarvis to keep me company, so that's good."

"Jarvis?"

Stark's face lights up. "Jarvis is my AI."

Loki knits his brow. "AI?"

"Artificial Intelligence. He's a computer system I built, and he's pretty much the coolest thing ever if I do say so myself. Right, Jarv?"

_"Correct, Sir."_

Loki jumps at the voice, head whipping around, trying to find its source. "Where is he?"

"He's installed throughout the house. I've been working on a wireless transmitter so I can get him on my phone, too." He whips a thin cell phone out of his pocket with a grin.

"That's... impressive. You built it?"

"Yep."

Loki thinks a moment, searching Stark's open face. "What can it do?"

Stark smirks smugly. "The better question is, 'What  _can't_  he do?"

Loki smiles slowly as they hear the first pop from the pot on the stove. He narrows his eyes at Stark. "Care to give me a demonstration?"

* * *

They sit across the counter from each other over a big bowl of popcorn, Tony talking animatedly and Loki listening intently.

"And so I've been analyzing the logic circuits for these kinds of technologies and simplifying them into a new sort of logic, one that's on a different base system."

"That's fascinating."

Tony searches Loki's sharp face for any sort of disinterest but finds none. It seems that not only is Loki interested in what Tony's been working on, but he also seems to understand it, too. That can't be said for many people, excluding Bruce, that Tony hangs out with. And Bruce was less interested in machines and technology than Tony, saying that they were too predictable and boring.

Loki's leaning forwards, chin propped on his hand. He's dressed in a loose black sweater over snug grey jeans, his black pea coat slung over the banister in the front hall. Tony's eyes drift down to his collar bones, poking out from the neck of his sweater. It's slipping over one pale shoulder, exposing smooth milky skin.

Tony realises he's staring and reaches across the counter to grab a handful of popcorn. He stuffs it in his mouth with a smile and Loki rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

Loki does the same, putting the popcorn on a paper towel in front of him. Flicking a piece into the air, he catches it in his waiting mouth. "Mmm."

"Let me try." Tony makes grabby hands at the bowl. Loki shoves it over to him and Tony plucks a piece between his fingers. He tosses in the air, mouth open and waiting below.

It lands at least two feet to the left.

"Dammit," he growls as Loki hoots.

"Here, Stark. I shall show you how it's done." He throws two pieces, picking them each out of the air with his tongue. They crunch in his mouth and he gives a satisfied smile.

"Show-off," Tony grumbles, but a trace of a smile is beginning to grace his lips.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the kitchen floor is littered with stepped-on popcorn and they're both grinning.

Loki tosses another piece in the air and it lands in Tony's hair, nestled among the brown tufts.

"You-" he begins, but doubles over.

Tony looks puzzled. "Are you o-"

Loki snaps back up, wiping his eyes. "I- I'm sorry, you just-" a deep, throaty chuckle escapes his lips. It's velvety and a bit gravelly, making a tingle go right down to the base of Tony's spine.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

Loki just points at Tony's head. The brunette runs his hands through his hair, and several pieces of popcorn come flying out from between his fingers.

Suddenly Tony's laughing too, chuckling uncontrollably, though he's not sure why. They smile at each other, stepping closer unconsciously.

Then Loki is right next to Tony, reaching up to pluck one more piece of popcorn from his hair. Tony can smell him, a heady mixture of books and smoke and apples and popcorn that draws him closer. Loki reaches thin fingers and extracts a small kernel from the top of his head, holding it out for Tony to see. He slips it between his lips, his pink tongue sliding out to taste.

Tony watches, distracted, and reaches his fingers to Loki's waist. They brush the fabric of his sweater softly, and Tony leans in ever so slightly. He's desperate for more of that intoxicating smell.

Suddenly Loki's gone, walking out into the hall like nothing ever happened. "I'm going to go get my stuff and then we can start working," he calls out behind him.

Tony sways a little back in the kitchen, still reeling. The want that coiled so low in his belly is slowly evaporating, leaving a puzzled confusion in its wake.

Loki swings back into the kitchen, a little flushed. "Where do you want to work?"

"Uh- in the living room, I think."

The black-haired boy gestures with a sweep of his arm and Tony leads the way.

* * *

Loki makes sure they're not distracted again.

They work mostly in silence, typing and writing on their own across the sitting room. They occasionally call questions back and forth but are mostly left to their own thoughts.

Loki chews on the pad of his thumb in an effort to keep his mind from wandering. He slips the locket out of his jeans pocket, rubbing the smooth brass surface with his fingers.

He frets absentmindedly, as he often does, his worries piling up into massive balls of tension. He steals furtive glances at Stark, trying as best he can not to notice the way his shirt rides up when he stretches or how long his eyelashes are when they brush his cheek.

Eventually, they finish their work, putting away pens and computers. Stark smiles at Loki, and Loki has a hard time not smiling back. The brunette walks him to the door, handing him his coat and watching as he pulls on his shoes.

"Are you going to get a ride or do you want me to drive you home?"

The question is unexpected. "I'll walk," Loki says.

"I can drive you," Stark says cheerily.

"I wouldn't want to be a bother," Loki replies.

"Seriously, let me drive you."

"I'd prefer to walk, thank you." It comes out sharper than Loki had meant it to, and he just barely catches the hurt look on Stark's face before it disappears.

"Okay." Stark opens the door for him. "Thanks for coming over, I'll see you in English tomorrow."

Loki nods, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Thank you for having me. It was enjoyable."

Stark smiles again, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Bye."

Loki pulls the door shut behind him, stepping down the long winding driveway and into the snow.

On the way home he remembers the smell of Stark's skin, all sweat and fire and grease. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

He wishes he didn't have to push Stark away, wishes that he didn't have so much to hide. He wishes that he could become close to him and get to know him. He wanted to know every nuance in his speech, every strange habit of his, every mark on his body-

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He couldn't have Stark or anyone else for that matter.

He has to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> Happy Christmas! Or whatever winter holiday you celebrate. This is your present, from me to you: a chapter a few days early! And there will still be a chapter on Friday, too.
> 
> All I would like for Christmas is your continued readership and wonderful support. ;) Oh, and some reviews. I do so love those reviews.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to all of you and to my beta, cara-tanaka. Go give her some love, she's the best.
> 
> Little preview: I had intended to upload the Christmas chapter on Christmas, but I haven't even wrote it yet. Yes, there will be a Christmas chapter, and it will probably come a while from now. Sorry. But it will be worth the wait, oh yes. *laughs diabolically*
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	5. Make It Stop

_I tried to pretend that it's over  
_ _Clicking my heels till it's over  
_ _Picking at scabs till it's over  
_ _Oh, I'll miss you as planned when it's over_

_The tragedy of longevity is one day I'll need you  
_ _And all I'll find are ragged linings of hollow tissue  
_ _Screwed to a shell of red blood cells, but we finally get paid  
_ _I lost you in the mail, I lost you all in a slave trade_

-  _Make It Stop_ by The Envy Corps

* * *

Tony Stark hated Mondays, and this was no exception.

He drives to school with the radio blasting, trying not to think about the fact that he'll have to see Loki again today. He tugs at a strand of his hair absentmindedly as he parks, remembering the feeling of Loki's fingers brushing his skull.

Once Loki had left, Tony had had a quiet moment to freak out over the fact that he was not only intrigued by the strange boy, but he was  _attracted_  to him. It wasn't like he hadn't been attracted to boys before. Tony was... experimental in his sexuality, and had certainly slept with a fair number of guys, though he still prefered women (and he makes sure that nobody knows about those times). The thing that scared him was the degree to which he was drawn to him. When Loki had been standing right there, close enough to touch, close enough so that his scent enveloped Tony, Tony had wanted him like he'd never wanted anyone,  _anything_  before.

And Tony was used to getting what he wanted.

But it seemed like Loki was pushing him away. Tony was fairly sure it wasn't because he was a guy (Loki painted his nails, for god's sake) but something else. The fact that Loki rejected him ate at him, worry gnawing at his stomach. He'd never really had it happen before.

It reminded him too much of Pepper. He'd never felt something so potently unfamiliar before she broke up with him.

Tony sighs and takes the keys from the ignition, climbing out of his car and making his way to the front steps of the high school.

Maybe he could talk to Loki again, before class. Maybe the incident on Sunday was just a fluke. Tony smiles at the possibility, plotting to track down the other boy at lunch.

* * *

Loki eats lunch alone.

He sits at a table by the window, chewing his ham sandwich thoughtfully. He's got his headphones in, drowning out the chatter of the other students as best he can. Sometimes he'll do homework, but today he chooses instead to just sit and watch the fat, fluffy flakes of snow drift down from the clouds.

He loves snow and always has. He doesn't mind its wetness or cold temperature, and loves the way that it makes everything instantly brighter. Occasionally, when he is having a hard time staying awake at night, he takes long walks and watches the way the streetlamps make pools of amber light on the sparkling white powder.

His thoughts are interrupted by a smack as someone sets their lunch tray next to his elbow. He pulls out an earbud, catching sight of a familiar face.

"Stark."

"Please, call me Tony," the brunette replies, holding up his carton of milk in some kind of a toast. "You're too formal."

Loki rolls his eyes. "Go away."

Stark dons a mock-offended expression. "How could you? You're so cruel!"

"I want to be alone."

"Yeah? Well  _I_  wanted to ask you about something."

"Oh?" Loki raises an eyebrow quizzically.

"Yeah." Stark leans forward on his elbow. He's not sitting properly on the lunch table's bench, straddling it so that he's perpendicular to Loki. "What happened yesterday? We were having fun, and then..." He makes a sound with his mouth, holding out his hands.

Loki turns away from him dismissively. Why couldn't Stark just leave well enough alone? "Let me be. I'd not like to go into it."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He says it like it's a joke, but Loki can tell it's not.

"I'm afraid you'll have to."

"No, I want to know. What did I do wrong?" He puts a hand on Loki's dark jeans and the black-haired boy can feel its warmth through the fabric.

Loki sighs like he's got the pressures of the world on his shoulders. "You did nothing, Stark. Now leave me alone."

"Then what is it, if it's not me?"

A white-hot flash of frustration and anger bursts through Loki's bloodstream and he throws Stark's hand off with a flick of his wrist. "Leave it  _alone_. It does not concern you."

"I think it does concern me." Stark is raising his voice. "I want to know why you're acting like an asshole."

"Maybe it's because I  _am_  an asshole," Loki hisses, standing swiftly to tower over the other boy. "Did that ever cross your mind? Or maybe I'm not acting like an asshole at all. Maybe you just can't  _fathom_  the fact that I  _don't like you_."

Stark stands to meet his gaze, his hands balling into fists. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you are so self-concerned,  _Stark_ ," he spits, realizing the lunchroom has gone quiet, "that you don't realize that not everything has to do with you. You're so used to going about your life, loved by everyone, that you can't believe that there's someone who doesn't. You can't believe that I have things other than you that dictate my behavior." He flares his nostrils, anger dissipating. He can tell that every person in the cafeteria is staring at the two of them, all eyes and ears turned to catch the action. A few whispers permeate the silence. "I just want to be alone," he says, resigned.

Stark grabs his wrist, making Loki meet his eyes. "I don't want to leave you alone."

Loki tears his wrist from Stark's grasp, his face a snarl. His poison green eyes are narrowed in anger as he grabs his bag and storms out of the lunchroom. A swell of rumors and gossip follow on his heels.

* * *

 _Well that could have gone better._  Tony pushes his hair from his forehead, huffing his breath. Everyone is staring at him, whispering to each other. He gathers his tray swiftly, putting the remainder of Loki's lunch onto it.

There's a clatter that doesn't sound like plastic silverware and he looks down, eyes landing on Loki's phone sitting on his lunch tray. He stuffs it in his pocket as he dumps the trash in the bin and steps out of the lunchroom.

He wanders the hall aimlessly, remembering the feeling of Loki's bird-boned wrist within his hand. Its skin was cool, a series of light scars on the inside that tickled the pads of his fingers. He rubs his hand on his jeans, trying to forget the sensation. His wrist bumps against something bulky.

He slips the phone out of his pocket, examining its scratched surface. It looks several years old, black and well-worn. Pushing a button, the screen illuminates with a keypad to enter a passcode. He thinks a moment, realizing that, despite his curiosity, he doesn't want to violate Loki's privacy and hack into his phone. It returns to his pocket.  _I'll just give it to him in English._

* * *

Loki spends English outside, wandering in the general direction of his house. It's the first time he's cut class since he switched schools and as much as he doesn't want to make it a habit again, it feels good to be out in the cold. He doesn't think he could have faced Stark, anyway.

He reaches to his pocket for his phone, meaning to check if there were any new text messages. Not many people text him anymore, but the messages he does get are usually important. The pocket is empty, though. Suddenly he remembers seeing it lying on the lunch table before he stormed out. _Dammit_.

Loki is sure Stark would have taken it. His stomach knots as he imagines the other boy looking through his pictures and texts and music, seeing his entire history laid out in one piece of technology. He knows he should delete all the old messages and photos, but every time he tries, his finger hovers over the button unsurely. He keeps them as reminders of his mistakes.

He pulls a crumpled package from his other pocket. Another habit he promised himself he wouldn't start again, but in his mind, the situation calls for it. He shakes a cigarette from the packet, holding it between his lips as he flicks the green lighter until a flame appears. Cupping it away from the wind, he sucks until he feels a familiar dry rush. The lighter returns to his pocket and he exhales, thick smoke billowing from his lips.

The cigarette lasts all the way home, glowing tip finally sputtering out as he sits on the curb outside his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest readers,
> 
> Some drama between Loki and Tony, oh no! *bites nails* My poor boys, they're so troubled...
> 
> This week's song is absolutely fantastic. It's on youtube.
> 
> Thanks, as always to all my beautiful reviewers and my fantastic beta, cara-tenaka. Love you!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	6. Black Swan

_Cause I'm right here in your arms today_

_With your fingers you can touch me_

_I'm your black swan, black swan_

_But I made it to the top, made it to the top_

- _Black Swan_  by Thom Yorke

* * *

Tony tries to occupy himself that night. He tries to keep from fretting over the fact that Loki wasn't in English. He tries to keep from replaying their argument in his brain over and over like broken record, to keep from regretting every sentence that left his mouth.

He tries to forget the phone's weight in his pocket, the weight of something just waiting to be explored.

But Tony had never been one for self-control.

He lasts until about midnight. He whips the black object from his pocket without hesitation, before he can change his mind again. Plugging it into Jarvis's hard drive, it takes just a few lines of computer code and less than a minute before he's hacked into the phone's database.

He flips through the phone, finding nothing immediately interesting. He taps the small icon of the camera, flicking through the first few pictures with mild interest. They're of things Loki must have deemed worthy of photographing: snowscapes, a dog in a sweater, headlights at night. All the dates are from within the last two or three months. Although they're pretty, they tell Tony nothing about the boy who took them. Suddenly, the photographs turn darker, more indistinguishable in their subject. There are a few of strangers, both girls and boys. They're taken in unnatural lighting, strange blues and greens and purples casting odd shadows across their faces.

The next photo is different from the others. It's lighter, seemingly outdoors and in the daytime. It's of a boy, several years older than either Loki or Tony. He's very handsome, in a dangerous kind of way, with clear blue eyes and blond hair pushed back from his forehead. His smile is the kind that makes you want to cross to the other side of the street as it passes you by, but you follow it with your eyes just the same. He's got a cigarette between two fingers and a striped shirt.

There's another photo afterwards of the same boy, taken on the same day. In this one he's not smiling, however, and that's when Tony can see just how hollow his face is. His eyes are deep in shadow, and his bones protrude from the angular cheeks. It's the face of someone without a cause, without someone to remind them to take care of themselves.

He flips to the next photo. There's the same boy, wearing the same shirt, with the same outdoor lighting. But this time he's not alone. A familiar pale figure is perched next to him, leaning against a picnic table. His black inkblot hair is blowing in the wind, into his eyes, and he looks like he's halfway to tucking it behind his ears. Tony notices that the other boy has his arm around Loki's waist in a way that's not suggestive of friendship. But the relationship it conveys is less that of a lover and more of a possessor, his fingers hooked in Loki's belt loop.

Tony swallows, becoming uncomfortable. There's another photo afterwards, this time of just Loki. His face is more visible here, hair blowing back behind his ears. Loki's face is hollow, just like the other boy's, so much so that Tony can barely recognize him. He looks sick, darkness rimming both eyes and cheeks just skin draped over bone. He's beautiful, Tony thinks, but in an intangible, unhealthy way. His poison-green eyes glitter out from beneath long lashes, and their intensity is off-putting. He's not smiling, just looking at the camera. There's a bruise on his neck and a scrape on his cheek.

Tony unplugs the phone from Jarvis, turning it off and slipping it into the deepest part of his backpack.

He lies in bed, trying to drift off, but every time he closes his lids, he sees hollow, blue eyes boring into his own.

He doesn't sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> Sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I have had something come up and it was difficult trying to get onto the internet. Plus, I'm being sucked into a vortex of schoolwork (it's around finals for me... eek!) and it's eating up my life.
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviewing, and as always to my scrumptious beta, cara-tanaka.
> 
> Thom Yorke is the frontman of Radiohead, one of my favorite bands. This week's song is a good one. (But aren't they all?)
> 
> Expect a regular update this Friday if I can get to my internet.
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	7. Walking With a Ghost

_No matter which way you go_

_No matter which way you stay_

_You're out of my mind, out of my mind_

_Out of my mind, out of my mind_

_I was walking with a ghost_

_I said please, please don't insist_

-  _Walking With A Ghost_  by Tegan and Sarah

* * *

English the next day isn't quite as awkward as Tony had imagined. News of the fight had certainly gotten around, and people are whispering animatedly when he strides into the classroom. All eyes turn to him, and the whispers quiet. Loki enters a few moments later, taking his spot next to Tony without a word to the other boy. Their classmates look between them excitedly, but after it was clear that Loki and Tony were not, in fact, going to start punching each other, they turned back to whatever they had been doing.

Tony remembers and digs around in his backpack for the phone. Closing his fingers around it, he slides it across Loki's desk. "Here."

Loki looks up at him for the first time. "Thanks."

Tony sort of expects him to say something further, but the raven-haired boy just turns to the front of the classroom.

Other than that brief exchange, they ignore each other completely throughout the rest of the class. The bell rings without incident, and Tony rushes to get home and enjoy the Friday afternoon off.

He's walking down the hallway, on the way to the parking lot, when he realizes he's forgotten his coat back in English. Turning on his heel, he scowls all the way back to the classroom.

Now Tony's not much of an eavesdropper, usually. But when he sees Loki and their teacher discussing animatedly, he can't help but press his ear to the crack at the door.

"- sorry, Ms. Sigyn, I'll get it in." Loki's voice is sweet and sincere. It doesn't suit him, Tony thinks.

There's a pause, and Tony can hear their teacher sigh. "Loki, I'm worried about you. You seem like a bright kid, and I know you've excelled at this subject in the past, but you need to turn in your homework."

"I will. I'll get it in."

"You know," the teacher says, "I've read your file. Both your academic... and your personal."

"I see."

"Loki." She sighs again, disappointed. "I know about the parties and skipping class. I know about the... other things, as well, and I know that you're recovering from being in a very dark place. I just want  _you_  to know that I want to help in any way I can."

"Then you'll know that I am getting all the  _help_  I could possibly want." Loki's voice is sharp, and Tony can tell he's packing up his things, eager to leave.

"Just think about it," she says, and Tony steps away from the door seconds before Loki throws it open.

He watches the black-haired head bob down the hallway as Loki lopes away on his long legs.

* * *

That night, Tony ponders the conversation he overheard, as well as the pictures on the phone.

He's used to everything fitting together neatly, like machine parts that are made to go together. He's used to people that slot easily into one box or another. He's used to boring, predictable.

Loki is different.

Every time Tony thinks he has him pegged, there's something new. The other boy had so many variables, all changing constantly. He's like a book that's never been read, with each chapter revealing something new. But rather than being read from the beginning, the chapters come in a random order, a tumble of information that doesn't make sense until it's all together.

Tony is sure that there's something in Loki's past, something terrible, that makes him act so strange. Blue eyes and golden hair flash in his mind, and he frowns. There was something about the boy in the phone pictures that wasn't right, something about the way he looked at Loki.

Tony runs his hands through his hair, groaning in frustration. If only he could just  _know_. If Thor was more helpful, maybe he wouldn't be agonizing over this. Or if Loki weren't so... intense, he could approach him about it. Maybe he could just get Loki's file, like their teacher-

Loki's file. That would have at least some information to go off of.

No, no. That would be a major infringement on Loki's privacy. Tony furrows his brow.

He tries to occupy himself with something else, but his mind keeps wandering back to the possibility that he could finally figure out what was the darkness behind Loki's eyes.

He tinkers on various things until late that night (or early the next morning, depending on the perspective). As usual, he doesn't decide to sleep, just drifts off in the middle of something.

_Fingers ghost across his face, cool and gentle. Tony opens his eyes, taking in large green irises and a soft smile._

_"Hello," Loki says in an almost-whisper._

_Suddenly, the scenery changes. He and Loki are standing in a park on a cold winter day. It's dusk, and a light fluff of snow falls from the darkening sky._

_Loki takes his hand, leading him along a path twisting between the trees. He follows blindly. They come upon a little ice cream cart, strange in the winter, but Tony doesn't notice. The ice cream man hands them each a treat with a knowing grin, then disappears._

_"Do you like ice cream?" Loki asks._

_Tony nods, unwrapping a chocolate-dipped ice cream bar. He bites into it, feeling the cold on his teeth._

_Loki unwraps his, too. It's a popsicle, green to match the boy's eyes. Rather than sinking his teeth into it, he pokes out his pink tongue and drags it along the sweet surface. He wraps his lips around it, sucking and biting, looking through his long lashes directly into Tony's eyes all the while._

_Tony watches, transfixed, as Loki proceeds to eat the popsicle in the most pornographic way possible._

_Once he's finished, Tony smiles lewdly and pushes the pale boy against a tree._

_Loki's plump lips form a perfect O of surprise, followed by a dark chuckle and an expression of pleased disbelief. "Oh, Stark, I am flattered, but you are too forward. A proper lad never allows himself to be pinned against a tree with such desire until after the first date." He leans in at the last word, his poison-green eyes flicking between Tony's own and his lips. The pale boy's cloud of sweet breath billows in the cold air._

_Tony leans in as well. The other boy smells like old books and apples, and something earthier. He parts his lips slightly in expectation._

_"Sir?" Loki says, in a voice that's not his own._

_"Hmm?" Tony replies. He tries to kiss Loki, but is again interrupted._

_"Sir, are you all right?"_

"What?" Tony sits up, wiping drool off his face.

" _I asked, sir, if you were all right. You were... exclaiming in your sleep."_  Jarvis's voice echoes from the monitors before him.

"Oh, um. Yeah." He presses a hand to his forehead. "Yeah, I'm fine." He tries to push the dream out of his mind.

Glancing at the monitors, he remembers what he had been thinking of before he drifted off.

He remembers the green popsicle.

Loki's file, he has to find Loki's file.

An hour later, he has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers!
> 
> Oh my goodness, Tony is so nosy. He's just poking his nose where it's going to be bitten. And the blue-eyed mystery boy... well, I can't tell you anything. Just know he's bad news.
> 
> A little sexytimes, just to keep things moving. Stupid Jarvis always interrupting Tony's fantasies.
> 
> Sorry it's been so Tony-Loki-centric. There will be some Clint and brief Coulson in the next chapter. Yay!
> 
> Thanks for your reviews! I will reply to all of them as soon as I am done with finals next weekend. And thank-you to cara-tenaka, who puts up with my irregular chapter updates. ;)
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. I've given up trying to stick to a schedule. Sorry!
> 
> P.P.S. Sorry, also, about the shortness of the last chapter. This one is a tad longer, and you didn't have to wait long for it. ;)


	8. Consolation Prizes

_No consolation prizes  
_ _Spit out your lies & chewing gum  
_ _Cut off your hair yeah that's it  
_ _If you look like that I swear I'm gonna love you more_

_-Consolation Prizes_  by Phoenix

* * *

"Pleeeeeease, Clint? Help me break into Coulson's office."

Clint looks at Tony's big, pleading brown eyes with a narrowed gaze. "What's in it for me?"

Tony snatches his fat wallet out of the back of his jeans, pulling a twenty out and waving it in front of Clint's nose.

The blond boy looks unimpressed. He crosses his arms.

With a sigh, Tony yanks two more twenties out of the leather wallet and slaps them in front of Clint on the lunch table.

Clint's pouting face turns into a wide smile as he slides the cash into his pocket. "That's more like it." He leans forwards on his elbows. "What can I do for you?"

"Help me sneak into Coulson's office. I need a watchman while I'm in there, and someone who can distract him if he comes back early."

"And why do you need to sneak into Coulson's office?" Clint says.

Tony waves his hand dismissively. "You don't have to worry about that. You just need to get me in and out  _without_  another detention."

Clint nods, quick and businesslike. His face is serious. "Got it. When?"

"He takes his lunch from noon to one. So tomorrow. You'll be late to class after lunch, though."

"Pssh, like I care," Clint responds. "It's math." He holds out his hand to shake.

Tony pumps his hand, once. "The deal is sealed. I'll meet you in front of the front office at 11:55 tomorrow."

"Roger."

* * *

" _There_  you are," Tony snaps. "You're twenty minutes late."

Clint saunters up to him. "Sorry. I got distracted."

"I hope she was hot," Tony responds.

"Natasha Romanoff, dude."

Tony whistles appreciatively.

"And I think I've got a shot."

Tony barks a laugh and claps Clint on the shoulder. "Dream on, boy."

Clint glares and rubs his shoulder.

As was planned, the blond boy walks into the office and starts chatting with the receptionist about schedules or some other nonsense. Tony, meanwhile, slips past them and into the office behind the secretary's desk. He pulls the door almost shut, so that he can hear Clint's signal if Coulson arrives.

He'd spent a while deliberating over who he would ask to stand guard. He had originally considered Steve or Bruce, but figured they would be generally against sneaking into anywhere to look at confidential files to satiate a stupid curiosity. Clint was mostly attentive, friendly, and not opposed to breaking some rules. In other words, just right.

Tony's ears prick to make sure the secretary is still thoroughly distracted. Apparently, she and Clint are discussing knitting patterns. He suppresses a laugh.

The office is small and comfortably cluttered, with a few pages from antique comics framed on the walls. A row of filing cabinets line the sides of the room, and a large desk dominates the space.

Tony goes straight for the filing cabinets, riffling through student files in order to find the right one.  _No Odinson._ Next cabinet.  _No Loki Odinson._  Next cabinet.

After ten minutes, he's found the O's, but there's a gap after Thor's file.

Suddenly, his eyes land on a fat manila folder on the desk. It's opened to a page of medical files. He checks the name on the front:  _Loki Odinson._  Tony brushes his fingers over the name, feeling the texture of the paper beneath the pad of his finger.

Remembering his purpose, he flips through it, stopping on what looks like a page of psychiatric notes.

_Patient: LOKI ODINSON, age 17_

_Known conditions: Bipolar affective disorder, depression, harmful behavior_

_Notes: Trust issues. Difficult relationship with father and brother. Depression began after accident-_

He flips the page again to long list of medications and more doctor's notes. Furrowing his brow, he looks for some kind of summary, something that will give him the most amount of information—

There's a picture of Loki on this page, stapled to the paper. It's taken from the front, the bright light of the flash reflecting in the boy's blown pupils.

Tony swallows, fingers closing on the glossy paper.

Suddenly there's a whistle from outside the door, a snippet from an AC/DC song that Tony knows means it's time to go.

"Dammit," he mutters, looking around frantically. He tears the photo from the page, stuffing it in his pocket, and tries to put the folder the way it was on Coulson's desk.

The door swings open, and there's Coulson in all his male-pattern-baldness, suit-and-tie glory. At first, he doesn't notice Tony, and hangs his snowy coat on the coat rack by the door. As soon as he turns, however, he starts, eyes widening in surprise. Then they narrow suspiciously.

"Stark," he says slowly, "What are you up to?"

Tony has his hands behind his back, an innocent look on his face. "I'm not up to anything, Mr. Coulson."

The older man scoffs. "When are you  _not_  up to something, Stark?"

Tony nods. The guy has a point.

"Get out," he barks, grabbing Tony by the collar and throwing him out the door. "And If I ever see you in here again without my permission, I'll give you detention for a month."

"Ack," Tony exclaims, rubbing his neck as the door slams behind him.

"Get what you need?" Clint asks.

"No thanks to you," Tony responds irritably. "Why didn't you signal earlier?" He pushes the door to the office open and they walk out into the hallway.

Clint shrugs, not looking the least bit bothered. "I dunno. What is it that you wanted so bad, anyways?"

"Like I said before, don't worry about it." He puts his hand in his pocket, feeling the smooth, slightly crumpled paper.

Clint eyes him warily, but says nothing further.

* * *

That night, he runs his fingers over the photo for the thousandth time.

It's like a corpse or a car accident. It's horrifying, and Tony should be able to look away, but there's something intoxicatingly terrible about it.

The Loki in the picture is so broken, battered. He looks hollow, like in the pictures on his phone, but there's something more desperate about him in this image.

His head is slightly tilted to one side, like he can't hold it up any longer. There is a cut on one cheek and a matching bruise on the other. His lips are swollen and cut, and he has and a bloody nose. There are bruises on what Tony can see of his neck, too. His hair is matted and dirty, greasy black strands falling into his face.

Loki's eyes are flat, expressionless. It looks like someone vaccumed him out, and all that's left is a tattered shell of a person. His irises are just a sliver around huge black pupils, reflecting unhealthily.

The words written on the psychiatric report in Loki's file swim through his mind.  _Bipolar. Depression. Trust issues._

Tony shivers. Suddenly it occurs to him that maybe he doesn't want to know everything about Loki. Maybe he's in over his head.

He flips the photo over, looking at a date on the back. It was taken mid-September, only a few months beforehand.

Tony has a feeling that although Loki may not look as damaged on the outside anymore, he's still just as shattered on the inside. Tony has a hunch that Loki is alone, and Tony knows how it is to be alone, to have no one to turn to.

Loki is broken, and Tony is resolved to fix him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> Again, Tony's nosiness is out of control. And poor Loki...
> 
> I'm sorry not much is happening in the way of Loki/Tony sexytiemz. This story needs a lot of momentum to build up, and we're not quite there yet. It'll be worth the wait, I promise. Also, sorry the chapters are a bit short, but this means I am able to update once or twice a week rather than once a month. And they might be getting longer soon...
> 
> I love your reviews, they keep me writing! Thanks to cara-tanaka for beta-ing and to all you great reviewers out there!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. I will respond to your reviews this weekend, I hope!


	9. Too Close

_I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more_

_Got to be true to myself_

_And it feels like I am just too close to love you_

_So I'll be on my way_

_-Too Close_  by Alex Clare

* * *

Tony's taking the trash out for Ms. Hill (Long story—it involves a late pass, a ceiling tile, and a metronome) when he sees a cloud of smoke rise from the other side of the dumpster. It's not that unusual to see kids smoking out here—Tony had done it himself a few times – but not usually in the middle of a class period.

His feet crunch in the snow as he approaches, his breath forming a cloud of its own. Swinging the bag of trash into the big green box, he peeks around the corner.

A familiar pair of green eyes narrow at him suspiciously. Tony smiles at the lean form propped against the wall. "Hey, Loki."

"Stark," Loki says, taking a drag on his cigarette. He exhales, smoke pouring out from between his lips into the wintry air. He pulls his leather jacket closer, shrinking in from the cold.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"It's a bad habit," Loki replies.

"It'll kill you, you know," Tony scolds.

Loki regards him out of the corner of his eyes, something menacing sparking in his glance. "Why do you think I do it?"

Tony just stares for a second, then comes to lean next to the other boy. Loki scoots over to make room for him, pulling a crumpled package out of his pocket and shaking it at Tony.

"No, thanks," Tony says. "Not everyone has a death wish."

"Suit yourself." The raven-haired boy puts the cigarette between his lips, pulling in one long breath as the tip glows brighter. He holds the smoke in his lungs a few seconds, then puffs it into the sky in a ring shape. The cigarette drops to the ground and he crushes it with his black boot, shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping away from the wall. "Goodbye, Stark."

"Wait," Tony says, a hand on Loki's elbow. "Wait. I'm sorry."

"And what for?"

"Y'know…" Tony struggles for words, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damn, I'm no good at this. I'm sorry for sticking my nose places it shouldn't belong. I didn't want… I'm sorry I made you mad."

Loki looks at him, slight disbelief registering across his face. "Are you, Tony Stark,  _apologizing_?"

"Yeah, don't let it go to your head," Tony says, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Loki returns the smile in kind. "Oh, I intend to let it do just that."

They stand there, just slightly apart, in the winter air. Their breath-clouds mingle above their heads.

"You're very different from Thor."

Loki surprises Tony by giving a melodic laugh. It's velvety and a little rough from the cigarettes and sends a shiver down Tony's spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

"Yes, I suppose I am." His face darkens. "I am very different."

"It's not a bad thing." Tony elbows the other boy's side teasingly. "In fact, I sort of like it."

The look on Loki's face is only half-joking when he says, "Really? What else do you like, Stark?"

The way he says it makes Tony think of that dream he had, and that poison-green popsicle. He reddens a bit for a second, then holds out his arm. "Care to take a walk with me?"

"Gladly," Loki replies, and they start off towards the woods that wrap around the high school. "Though you haven't answered my question."

"I like to take walks with mysterious transfer students who yell at me in the middle of the cafeteria."

Loki smirks. "Mysterious?"

"I know nothing about you besides the fact that you are, by some miracle of birth, related to Thor and that you know something about poetry even though you said you didn't like it."

"How do you-" Loki starts, then begins again. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, come on, Loks," Tony says. "Only someone who's a poetry freak would read the poem twice."

Loki smiles. "You watched me read it twice?"

Tony shrugs, like it's no big deal. "Yeah."

Loki wraps his hands around Tony's bicep, pulling him close as they walk down the path between the skeletal trees. "What else do you know about me?"

"Like I said, not much. You're mysterious." He pauses, thinking. "I know you've got good aim when it comes to getting popcorn in your mouth. I know you can be blunt," he says, referring to their fight.

"It's been said."

"I know you've got some kind of a death wish, smoking those cigarettes."

"Says the boy who's notorious for drinking as much as a horse," Loki says with a smirk.

"I know you're strange and changeable. I know you actually sort of like me, no matter how you act. And I know I like you a lot."

"That last one wasn't about me," Loki breathes as he stops walking. His hand stays on Tony's bicep, those long fingers wrapped around the muscle.

Tony doesn't reply, just tucks a strand of hair behind Loki's ear in a surprisingly intimate gesture. His fingertips brush Loki's soft cheek and he hears a sharp intake of breath from the other boy.

Then Loki's hand is gone, leaving an imprint on his skin. The raven-haired boy saunters back up the path. "If you want, I can tell you a bit more," he calls after him.

Tony follows after him, scowling. "Sure."

* * *

 _Careful, Loki. Don't get too close_ , he tells himself.  _Mustn't get too close._

"The first thing you should know is that I don't get along with either my father or my brother." He's walking briskly, and Stark is struggling to keep up. "They are loud and brash and uncultured."

"Tell me how you really feel," Stark mutters. "And your mother?"

Loki swallows. He starts to walk a bit slower, allowing Stark to keep beside him. "My mother died nearly six months ago."

He sees a flash of shock across Stark's face, but it's gone as soon as it appeared. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Loki says, before he can stop himself. "She was the only way I could bear to be around my family."

"My mother died when I was younger," Stark says.

"Was it difficult, living without her?"

"I was pretty small, but yeah. My dad and I don't get along either. I'm lucky though, 'cuz he's only around a few days every month." He smiles, but there's something bitter behind it so it looks more like a grimace.

"We're well-matched, then." Loki shoves his hands in his pockets. "Should we be heading back?"

"Ms. Hill is going to kill me," Stark replies rubbing his temples.

Loki laughs again, and it makes the brunette boy smile.

"Can I walk you to class?" Stark asks.

"I'd like that."

They wind their way back to their respective classrooms, chatting and laughing warmly the whole way. Only when they get inside does Tony realize he's cold, and he shivers so violently it makes Loki slide his jacket off his thin shoulders and onto Tony's.

They reach Loki's classroom and Tony returns his jacket. The leather smells like Loki, and the brown-eyed boy is a little sad to see it go.

"Bye, Loks. See you in English."

"Goodbye, Stark," Loki calls, waving.

He smiles to himself again, the shape feeling unfamiliar on his lips. He realizes, with some surprise, that this is the first time he's been happy in months.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I've gotten a few complaints about the shortness of the chapters, but if I don't keep them short, you guys could go weeks and weeks without an update. Sorry!
> 
> The updates will be quicker now, I think, maybe twice a week. I want to get this story moving as much as you do!
> 
> Thanks to my beautiful beta, cara-tanaka, and all my fabulous reviewers! I respond to every review I get, so shoot me a message! If there's something you want to see in this story, tell me! ;)
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!


	10. Feel Good Inc.

_A melancholy town where we never smile_

_And all I wanna hear is the message beep_

_My dreams, they've got to kiss_

_because I don't get to sleep, no..._

_\- Feel Good Inc._ by Gorillaz

* * *

Loki's sitting in the beige waiting room, reading a magazine when the silver-haired, potbellied man pokes his head through the door.

"Loki, I'm all ready for you now, come on in."

He puts down the magazine and shuffles into the familiar room, closing the door behind him. "Hello, Dr. Selvic."

"Hi, Loki. How are you?"

"I'd be better if I weren't here."

The older man sighs. "Oh, come on now, Loki. Don't start that again." He motions with his arm. "Sit on the couch."

The raven-haired boy sits reluctantly.

"I haven't seen you in a few weeks. Your father tells me you're back in school."

"Unfortunately." He fingers his sleeve absentmindedly. "It's just as hateful as I remember."

"What kinds of classes are you taking? Do you enjoy your teachers?"

"I wouldn't say that, no." There's a biting edge to his voice.

Dr. Selvic ignores it. "Are you making new friends?"

Tawny eyes and a wide smile flicker through Loki's mind and it takes him a second before he says, "One."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. What are they like?"

"He's…" He searches for the right word.  _Kind. Intelligent. Funny. Perfect._

"He's different," Loki says finally.  _Like me._

"Are you taking your medications?"

Loki scowls. "My medications? The ones that make me duller and stupider and not  _myself_  just so I'm easier to live with for everyone else?" He scoffs. "Yes, I'm taking them."

"Are you still smoking?"

"Sometimes," Loki replies. There's no use lying, the old man would find out eventually.

Dr. Selvic gives him a disapproving glance. "Those are very harmful."

"Would you rather I be smoking cigarettes or back where I was a month ago? Because I need something to keep me going, Doctor."

"Loki, you'll find that if you just change your attitude-"

"Oh, my attitude? If I remember correctly, it wasn't my  _attitude_  that made my father force me to go see a shrink."

Selvic purses his lips, making a few notes on his legal pad.

Loki suffers through another forty-five minutes of therapy hell before shrugging his coat on violently and striding back to the door. He's got his hand on the knob when he hears Selvic say,"Oh, Loki?"

Loki turns on his heel to face the old man, an expectant look on his face. "What."

"I'm glad you've made a friend."

The black-haired boy blows a strand of inky hair out of his face. "Yeah," he says quietly, shutting the door behind him. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeny-tiny baby chapter this time. I'm in the midst of a very busy week, but hopefully there'll be another update within the next few days. Just think of this as a bonus chapter, a gift from me to you!
> 
> I still love reviews, even on baby chapters. Should I stick some more of these tiny ones between the bigger ones? Tell me!
> 
> Thanks to my beta and all you readers!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. When I was in middle school, these guys were my favorite band ever. Seriously. They were pretty much my first obsession.


	11. Stillness Is The Move

_After all that we've been through_

_I know we'll make it after the wait_

_The question is a truth_

_There is nothing we can't do_

_I'll see you along the way baby_

_The stillness is the move_

_\- Stillness Is The Move_  by The Dirty Projectors

* * *

Tony Stark does not go to the library very often.

He is a strong believer in the Internet Age's power and has resolved that anything worth knowing can be found on the web. He can count the number of books he's read in the past year on one hand and that's fine by him.

And, if it weren't for this stupid English project, he wouldn't have to be at the library at all.

His teacher had this crazy notion that books were  _useful_  or something and had forbidden the class to use the internet for this project. Tony would normally just cheat and use it anyway but she demanded they cite their sources.

Thus, the library.

He wanders between the stacks of the reference section, looking for the books he needs on poetry. His fingers trail along the spines lining the shelves, reveling in the glossy jackets and rough leather bindings.

He pulls one down, flipping through the pages. There's not a single picture in the whole thing. He frowns and grunts unhappily, placing the book back in its proper place.

He's gathered a good handful of books and has stacked them around him at one of the tables scattered between the shelves in some kind of a book-fort. Dragging a finger down page after page, he searches for what he needs.

There's something familiar about this poem, he realizes. The cover, when he flips it over, details the book as a collection of Welsh poetry. That's when he remembers that this is the poem he and Loki read together;  _Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night_  by Dylan Thomas.

He remembers the way Loki's eyes looked distant when he explained the meaning of the poem and the way they scanned the lines of the poem with a soft kind of remembering. Now, he traces its words with his finger, bits and pieces sticking in his mind as he goes.  _Fierce tears. Rage. Dying light. Dark._

_Death is not always depressing, Stark. This poem is about resisting death, about doing all you can to escape it before it consumes you._

He can picture it so clearly. The lost expression on the pale boy's face, the way his delicate fingers danced down the columns of text, the quiet longing in his voice.

Someone coughs, piercing the muffled quiet of the library. Tony turns the page, the sound of the paper waking him from his thoughts.

An hour later, his book-fort's supply of knowledge has been exhausted so he gets up from his chair and returns to the stacks.

Over the tops of the books, he can see another book perpendicular to them. His fingers close over the rough spine of a poetry compilation, dragging it off the shelf to expose the book behind.

He reaches into the bookshelf for the hidden volume, curious. He tugs on it but it seems to be stuck on something. Naturally, he tugs harder but the book doesn't give. In fact, it seems to be tugging back.

Not to be bested, Tony digs his heels into the carpet and yanks on it with all his strength. The shelf shudders, tilting slightly towards him. It tips, tumbling towards him.

He cries out and shoulders it as hard as he can to protect himself, sending the shelf crashing the other direction. Tony hears a yelp as it topples over, books spewing everywhere.

Rushing around to the other side, Tony sees a hand poking out from beneath the fallen bookshelf.

A familiar hand.

A black-fingernailed, spidery-boned hand.

_Oh .Oh, shit._

He hears a sound like a dying whale from beneath the shelf and the hand twitches slightly.

_Oh my god, I've killed Loki._

"Loki?" he asks in a frantic whisper. "Loki, is that you?"

There's a beat of silence, followed by a muffled, "Stark?"

"Oh shit." He sees that the bookshelf is resting on a tipped-over book cart and breathes a sigh of relief. At least the other boy wasn't totally crushed by the falling shelf.

Loki pokes his head out from a pile of books. His face is absolutely  _murderous_.

Tony rushes to lift the shelf off him, setting it upright again. The books it contained are everywhere, and he pokes one with his boot. "I'm really sorry, Loki, I didn't mean to… I didn't think…"

He glances at Loki, who's dusting himself off. He seems to be unharmed but for a cut on his forehead.

"Oh, you're bleed-" Tony starts, but shuts up as soon as Loki shoots him a glare powerful enough to catch him on fire.

"I am going to kill you," Loki says, in the same matter-of-factly tone he would use if he were commenting on the weather.

Tony believes him, just then, looking into his deadly eyes. He swallows nervously.

Then Loki's entire face changes, morphing into an expression of entitled disappointment. "Unless you help me pick up these books, that is."

"What?"

"Help. Me. Pick. Up. These. Books." He stresses every word by tapping the bookshelf with a hardcover volume on Japanese haiku.

Tony stumbles to aid him, gathering the books in his arms and shoving them into the shelf haphazardly. Suddenly there's a hand on his arm and Loki is removing the books he just shelved.

"No, you bum. Put them in according to the system."

Tony stares at him blankly.

Loki rolls his eyes. "The Dewey decimal system."

Tony shakes his head ever so slightly, mouth slack in incomprehension.

Loki gives an exasperated sigh, yanking the books off the shelf again and placing them in stacks on the floor. He sits between them, picking them up at random and putting them back into different piles. "I should have expected you would know nothing about the way a library works."

"I don't really come here a lot."

"Obviously." He hands Tony a group of books. "Here, put these at the top."

Tony does. "How does this system work, whatever it's called?"

"The Dewey Decimal system. Basically, every category and subcategory have their own numerical designation and it forms a hierarchy of literary categories. For example," Loki says, looking at the sticker on the spine of the book in his hands, "This one is Literature, so you start with 800. Then it's English poetry, so it's 821. The decimals afterwards are for more specific classifications. It's been in use in libraries since the eighteen hundreds, though very few people know about it."

"Then how come  _you_  know so much about it?"

Loki looks at him like it's obvious. "I volunteer here." He hands him another stack of books.

Tony remembers the book cart. "Oh."

"And I practically lived in the library when I was younger," he says more quietly. He rubs his knee, remembering.

Tony watches him, holding his hand out for more books. "All right, bookworm, let's keep going."

They work companionably for a while, in comfortable silence. Loki seems sort of lost in thought and Tony doesn't bother him until he says, abruptly, "What's your favorite book?"

Loki hands him another stack. "That's a stupid question."

"What? No it's not. Why is it stupid?"

"Because there's no reason I should have to pick a favorite."

Tony scoffs. "Fine. Then what's the book you'll never get bored of, the one that you read over and over and over just because you enjoy it?"

Loki thinks a moment, giving shelving one last stack of books and standing up. "It's not a book."

"What is it then?"

"A play." He starts off towards the elevator to the lower level, pushing the cart before him.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Hamlet," Loki says quietly, pushing the button to the elevator. The doors slide open with a  _ding_  and he and Tony get inside.

Tony searches the other boy's face. "Why?"

Loki shrugs nonchalantly as the elevator reaches the bottom floor. "It's beautiful."

"I just remember it as being dense and boring," Tony says tactlessly.

Loki closes his eyes, reciting, "There are more things in heaven and earth _,_ Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> Longish chapter this time. This is one of my favorites so far. Libraries are so romantic~ ) Also, Hamlet is pretty much the best play ever. 'Jus saying.
> 
> Love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. Thanks to my beta and all you awesome reviewers!


	12. Easy Lovers, Hardly Friends

_It started with a tiny whisper  
_ _In my ear  
_ _Ended like a roller coaster  
_ _At the county fair_

_You always fooled me with  
_ _December kisses  
_ _Oh so red and white  
_ _Cold and twisted_

_-Easy Lovers, Hardly Friends_ by Jeremy Messersmith

* * *

"This is probably going to sting," Tony says, moving the peroxide-dampened gauze to the open cut.

Loki hisses as it makes contact, squeezing his eyes shut. They're in the staff bathroom in the library's basement and Tony's trying to patch up the cut on Loki's forehead.

Tony spreads a bandage over the wound on his forehead, running his thumb along its length. For the first time, he can see a scar on the other boy's cheek and another on the bridge of his nose. They're in the exact same spot as the injuries in the photo in his drawer at home but rather than being open and bloody, they're small and pink and slightly shiny.

Loki is searching his face with his big green eyes, brows knitted slightly. "Are you finished?"

"Not quite," Tony smirks and leans forward, pressing his lips to the bandage briefly. "There, all better."

Loki looks at him in disbelief.

"What? Do you want me to kiss it again?" he asks, and moves his lips closer.

Loki smacks him away. "Stop it." There's a smile just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, I have an idea," Tony exclaims. "When are you done with your shift?"

Loki checks the clock behind him. "In twenty minutes."

"How about I wait for you 'till then and we go out and get coffee or something?"

"I don't like coffee."

"Blasphemy!" Tony shouts, pointing at Loki in mock-horror.

Loki shrugs, pushing past him and back out into the hall and towards the elevator. "But I'd like to go somewhere afterwards, sure. I have to work the circulation desk until then."

They sit at the desk, Loki working on some paperwork while Tony rocks back and forth in his chair in boredom.

The raven-haired boy aids a few people find what they need, either pointing or leading them to the right section of the library himself.

One older woman comes up to the desk searching for a well-known pornographic novel and Tony giggles behind his hand.

The woman shoots him a glare and Loki smirks at him. Pointing her in the right direction, he comes to sit next to Tony.

"Don't patronize the patrons, Stark."

"Call me Tony," the brunette responds. "I'm getting tired of the whole 'Stark' thing. You sound like Ms. Hill."

Loki smirks at him, eyes briefly landing on his lips. "All right, Tony."

Suddenly a bespectacled girl appears before Loki, bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of the desk. "Hi, Lo-lo."

Loki rolls his eyes. "Hello, Darcy," he says and Tony can tell he's just barely restraining his dislike.  _Lo-lo?_  he thinks with a grin.

"So, what's up with you? Do you want to go get coffee with me? Your shift's almost over."

Loki shakes his head, stacking the books on the desk. "I've already got plans, I'm sorry."

Just to be rude, Tony waves. "Hi. I'm his plans."

"Oh," the girl says, somewhat disappointed. "So are you two…" she gestures between them with a finger, tugging on a strand of her hair, "… together?"

Loki starts coughing before Tony can open his mouth, shooting him a meaningful glance. The  _I wish_  rests on the tip of Tony's tongue, unsaid.

"We're just friends," Loki replies.

Darcy looks relieved. "Good. I mean, okay." She gives a brief mock-salute. "Well, bye, Lo-lo."

Tony watches her go and turns to face the other boy, who's rising from his chair. "Do you really consider me a friend, Lo-lo?" A massive grin spreads across his face at the last word.

"Oh, shut up," Loki snaps, but there's a friendly edge to his voice.

* * *

Loki pulls his black military-style pea coat and green scarf on as Tony tugs his worn leather jacket over his AC/DC t-shirt. They push the revolving door of the library open and step out into the cold winter air.

Their breath forms tiny clouds as they walk, like the smokestacks of steam engines. Loki shakes a cigarette out of the pack in his breast pocket and lights up, cupping the flame from the wind. He puffs on it happily.

"I know a good coffee shop not far from here," Tony says to him.

Loki nods, taking a drag on his cigarette. They move along in familiar silence, punctuated only by the sound of the traffic and their boots crunching in the snow.

"I consider you as a friend," Tony says suddenly.

Loki's eyes roam over his face for some kind of sign that he's joking but he finds none.

"I consider you as a friend, too, St-" He clears his throat. "Tony."

Tony beams at him, a smile so wide that it seems it could last forever. His hair is puffier than usual from the wind, and his nose is a bit red in the cold. His broad shoulders under his worn leather jacket make up for what he lacks in height compared to Loki. The pale boy is suddenly overcome with the urge to run his fingers along Tony's bare shoulders, feeling the knots of hard muscle beneath his tanned skin.

They cross the street and stop before a tiny café. Tony holds the door for Loki as they bluster inside, eager to escape the frigid air.

Sauntering up to the counter, Tony asks for a large black coffee with a double shot of espresso and motions for Loki to order as well.

"Can I have a cup of jasmine tea, please?"

"Sure," the barista says.

"And a chocolate muffin," Tony adds, "to share." He hands over his credit card while Loki takes a seat in the window, sliding into a cozy little booth with a good view of the street outside.

Tony shows up with their drinks a few moments later and slides in across from Loki. He pulls off his jacket and sips his coffee, a contented look on his face. "Mmm."

"I completely agree," Loki sighs into his cup of tea, picking at the muffin.

Tony stares at him over his coffee cup. He's suddenly struck by Loki's beauty, his elegance, and he surprises himself by taking note of it. He realises the other boy has very light freckles across the bridge of his nose. He blows into his coffee cup, sending tendrils of steam curling into his face.

"You know," Tony says, "Thor warned me to stay away from you when I talked to him before I'd met you."

"And how is that working out?" Loki asks, bemused.

"Let's just say I don't like to do as I'm told," Tony responds and his eyes sparkle with something that gives Loki a warm feeling in his belly.

"He has good reason to warn you, though," Loki says darkly, wrapping his hands around his mug. "I have a history of short-lived friendships."

Tony runs his thumbs over Loki's long fingers affectionately. "I don't really care, Loks."

Loki knows he should pull away, that he shouldn't become too attached to Tony. But those rough, warm fingertips on his own feel so  _good_. He takes Tony's hands and lays them flat on the table, face up. Using a black fingernail, he traces the lines of his palms.

"Why do you paint your nails?" Tony asks. "I'm not complaining, I kind of like it. I'm just curious."

"I do it partly to annoy my father," Loki says, "and partly because I like it too."

"I know how you feel," Tony says with a sad smile. He pulls the other boy's fingers between his own, twining them together.

"I'm gay," Loki confesses, surprising himself. It's the first time he's said it out loud. He hates himself for being so trusting of Tony, especially when they're near-strangers but Tony feels so solid in his hands that he just can't help it.

"I figured as much," Tony says. "Not many straight guys wear nail polish."

Loki groans, pulling his hands away. "If only my family could infer as much." He takes a sip from his cup and a big bite of muffin.

"They don't know?" Tony asks. "Thor must be denser than he looks."

Loki laughs then, sweet and musical. It puts a huge grin on Tony's face.

"I'm not picky when it comes to sex," Tony says, "but I should have you know I don't do this very often."

"Do what?"

Tony just gives him a little smile, quiet and reserved as if it's a secret. "Make friends."

Loki's grin is dazzling. "Me neither, Tony. Me neither."

* * *

They finish up the muffin and their drinks sitting and watching the traffic outside.

"Oh!" Tony says, pulling a pen out of his pocket and scrawling something on a napkin. He pushes it over to Loki. "Here."

"What is it?"

"My phone number," Tony answers with a smirk. "That's what people usually do after dates, right?"

"I wouldn't know, I haven't been to many," Loki says as he writes his own on another napkin. He reaches over and tucks it in the breast pocket of Tony's coat, letting his hand linger over the rough leather.

Tony glances at Loki's wrist, catching sight of a few horizontal red scars. They're fresher than those on his face, and he looks back to Loki in surprise.

The raven-haired boy yanks his hand away like he's been burned, pulling his wrist into the sleeve of his sweater defensively.

Tony doesn't comment, just searches his face for some kind of explanation.

Loki tugs his coat on, looping his scarf around his neck. Tony takes that as a cue to go and does the same. Dropping a few coins into the jar by the cash register, they step out the door and onto the icy sidewalk.

* * *

They walk most of the way back in silence. Halfway through, however, Tony reaches out and takes Loki's frigid hand in his own as a kind of apology. Loki lets him, in his own kind of forgiveness.

"God, Hamlet, your hands are freezing."

Loki smiles at the nickname. "Cold hands, warm heart, as my mother told me."

They reach the library and Tony walks over to his car. It's red and flashy and Loki should have expected something so ostentatious to belong to Tony Stark.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"No, thank you. I have a few more things to do here and then I'll walk home."

"Suit yourself," Tony says as he slides into the driver's side of the car.

"Tony, wait." Loki leans into the cockpit and kisses him once, briefly, on the forehead. "Thank you for the tea."

The brunette grins. "No problem, Loki."

The raven-haired boy slams the door shut and lopes back to the library, waving behind him.

Only when he's halfway home does Tony realize that he forgot to check out the books he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I didn't forget about you, I just got busy. But I have a break coming up, which means more writing! Yay!
> 
> Expect another chapter this week.
> 
> Please read and review! I love to get ideas and commentary on how things are going. How can I iprove? Tell me!
> 
> Love,  
> RagAndBones


	13. Hypnotise

_I want to hypnotize you baby  
_ _On the telephone  
_ _So many times I called your house  
_ _Just to hear the tone  
_ _And though I knew you weren't home  
_ _I didn't mind so much 'cause I'm so alone_

_-Hypnotise_ by The White Stripes

* * *

"Can you pass me the forceps?"

Loki looks up from his partially-dissected frog to his lab bench mate, who's waiting palm up. He hands it over to Bruce wordlessly.

"You and Tony are getting to be good friends."

The raven-haired boy's shoulders rise and fall in an exasperated sigh. He really doesn't want to have this conversation. He doesn't reply to Bruce in the hope he'll drop the subject.

However, the bespectacled boy is determined. "I've been friends with him for a long time and I know him really well."

Loki braces himself. He knows what's coming, he's gotten enough of it from Thor. It's always the same warning to keep away, to distance himself. A reminder that he's dangerous, and that he needs to be alone.

But the next thing out of Bruce's mouth is directly the opposite. "I know he can be a difficult person. I want to warn you that he's prone to selfishness and that you should be careful around him. I don't want him to hurt you."

Loki looks to him, mouth slightly ajar. "Why do you care about me?"

Bruce returns the glance, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Because I was the one he hurt before." He returns to his frog, scalpel in hand. "I don't want it to happen to anyone else."

When Loki doesn't say anything, Bruce continues. "Tony is magnetic and when he pays attention to you, you feel special. You feel like you're the only one he cares about." Bruce points his scalpel to Loki. "But the thing about Tony is that he gets bored easily. And when you no longer interest him, he throws you away."

"Why are you still friends with him?"

The purple-clad boy rinses his knife, wiping it on a paper towel. He shrugs. "Tony, though he might try to convince you otherwise, needs friends sometimes. And I have a higher tolerance for douchebaggery than most."

Loki gives him a small smile. Bruce smiles back and they both return to their respective frogs, working the rest of the class period in companionable silence.

* * *

Loki's doing his homework late at night, pencil scratching across the surface of the paper audibly. Thor is off with friends and Odin is on a business trip, so Loki takes this opportunity to revel in the silence of the house. That is, until his phone chirps.

He checks the screen.

_hey its tony. what r u doing?_

Loki scoffs, both at the pointless question and atrocious grammar.

_Why do you care? Homework._

It's only a few moments before the reply comes.

_im just wondering. what kind of homework?_

Rolling his eyes, Loki responds,  _I'm writing that english paper we have due tomorrow._

_shit!_

_dammit i forgot we had that due._

Loki smirks. Typical. He's in the midst of typing out a witty retort when his phone rings. Realizing it's Tony, he picks it up. "What."

"Ooh, no need to sound so harsh."

"You're interrupting my work."

"Well I'm sure I'm much more interesting than whatever you're writing about  _To Kill a Mockingbird._ "

"Don't be so sure of yourself," Loki replies, a biting edge to his voice. "My paper is much more interesting than you. Didn't you enjoy the book?"

"Nah," Tony says, "I thought it was boring."

"Here's the real question, Stark-"

"Tony. Call me Tony."

"Fine. Tony. When has a book  _not_ bored you?"

Loki can just hear the smirk in Tony's face as he says, "I liked  _Lord of the Flies_."

"Of course you did."

Tony scoffs, offended. "Are you commenting on my literary tastes, Odinson?"

"What tastes?" Loki says, smirking.

"You," the other boy says, a smile in his voice, "are impossible."

"Takes one to know one, Stark."

Tony chuckles at that. Hearing his throaty laugh gives Loki a forbidden heat in his gut.

"Well then, Loki dear, we're well matched."

"That's one word for it."

There's a pause and Loki types away a bit at his essay before he speaks again. "Why did you really call? Is there something you need?"

Tony doesn't answer for a while, and when he does his voice is quiet. "I just like talking to you, I guess. You help me think."

"That's because without me you'd forget all your English assignments," Loki jokes weakly. He's unnerved by Tony's seriousness, the shadow in his voice.

"No, it's more than that." There's a sound like he's swallowing and he chuckles nervously. "There's something about you, Hamlet. I don't know what it is, but you're different."

Loki doesn't know what to say. He struggles for words, but before he can find the right ones, Tony is speaking again.

"Sorry to bother you, Loki."

"I'm not bothered at all," Loki blurts in a rush. "I like it."

"Do you?" There's a note of surprised happiness in the other boy's voice. "That's good."

When the pale boy doesn't say anything, Tony tells him, "I've gotta go and start my essay. But I liked talking to you for no reason, Loks. We should do it again sometime."

"I'd like that. Goodbye, Tony."

Tony sighs and it sounds contented and soft. "Bye, 'Lo. see you tomorrow."

The line clicks but Loki holds the phone to his ear a long time afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> 'Lil baby chapter for Valentine's Day! I hope all of you are cozy tonight. ;)
> 
> FYI, Tony's texts will always be uncapitalized so you can tell them apart.
> 
> There's some Tony/Bruce here if you squint, but if you're not into that, then they are just good friends (or science bros).
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. Four or five more chapters 'till we get to the good stuff. But it's worth the wait, I promise!
> 
> A/N: I'm running this story on FF.n and AO3 so I accidentally forgot this tiny lil' chapter. Sorry!


	14. Black & Blue

_Hello my friend, I see you're back again_  
 _Hello mystery, don't bother to explain_  
 _How 'bout maybe it's all been in my head_  
 _Hey world, I'm tired of this black & blue_  
 _Black & blue_  
- _Black & Blue_ by Miike Snow

* * *

Loki's sitting in math class, barely listening to a lecture on derivatives, when his phone vibrates.

It buzzes loudly, rattling off of the locket nestled beside it. The kid next to him glares and he slides it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.

_meet me at the baseball field behind the dumpsters._

Checking the number, he realizes it's Tony. Furrowing his brow, he types back,  _Why would I do that?_

The reply comes mere seconds later.

_i want to show you something_

_And what would that be?_

_its a surprise_

He thinks a moment.  _Whatever it is, it's better than derivatives. I'll be there in a few minutes._

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, nonchalantly throwing his jacket over his shoulders as he leaves the classroom. His footsteps echo through the empty halls, stirring up thoughts and traces of feelings on his skin.

He thinks of the way that Tony's hands felt in his own, all rough and calloused and well-used. In comparison, his long, smooth, pale fingers seem almost useless. Absentmindedly, those fingers come up to touch the bandage just below his hairline that Tony had placed there the day before.

He remembers getting home after finishing up at the library and going to look in the mirror. Tony had almost left his thoughts by then but seeing the lime-green bandage on his forehead had brought those tawny eyes back to the front of his mind. They had stayed there since, and Loki was beginning to be frustrated that every other thought was something to do with the brown-haired boy.

Cold air brushes his skin as he pushes the door leading outside open. He pulls his jacket closer against the cold, scanning the snow-bleached parking lot for any sign of Tony.

Loki's pocket buzzes.

_come down over towards the baseball field_

He searches for some sign of the other boy but his green eyes find nothing. Reluctantly, he does as asked before his phone goes off again.

_a little to the left_

"Wha-" he starts, stepping left unconsciously.

Suddenly, something soft and cold and wet smacks him in the ear.

He whips around, causing snow to fall into his collar. He can feel the icy wetness melting on his warm skin. Another snowball thumps into his back, sending him off his balance.

Loki can hear Tony cackling from behind the dumpsters.

The raven-haired boy growls deeply, kneeling down to gather snow in his palms. He packs it together, tightly, and calls out over the dumpster, "This is your idea of a surprise?"

In response, Tony just laughs harder. His head of tousled brown hair pokes over the dumpster, a shit-eating grin on his face. "C'mon, Hamlet, this is the best kind of surprise."

"The kind that's only fun for you? I see," Loki sneers, and he lobs the snowball at Tony's head.

"Whoa-" the brunette boy begins before a load of snow smacks him full-on in the face. He splutters, brushing it off his nose and down his shirt.

It's Loki's turn to double over laughing, and Tony just scowls at him. "Oh, you'll pay for that, Odinson."

"Will I now?" Loki teases, gathering more snow. "Is that a threat?"

"You better believe it," Tony retorts, chucking another snowball in his direction.

Loki dodges but the icy sphere smacks his knee, getting his black jeans sopping wet. In return, he clips Tony's ear and the other boy clutches the side of his head with his bare hand.

Tony ducks behind the dumpster again suddenly, disappearing for a few moments. Loki stares, confused, until he has a mouthful of snow a few moments later. He shouts as he's pelted with an entire arsenal of snowballs, Tony shouting insults at him between blows.

"What'cha gonna do, Odinson? Just stand there and take it like a sissy?"  _Smack._

"Aw, c'mon. Stop shaking like a leaf, you're embarrassing me."  _Smack._

"You're so skinny, it's a wonder I don't miss. I suppose it's because my aim is so spectacular."  _Smack._

Suddenly, the insults became less... insulting.

"It's okay. I like skinny." _Smack._

"Actually, there's not a lot about you I don't like."  _Smack._

Loki, meanwhile, has been crouched on the ground, his back turned to Tony in a mock-terrified sort of position. Suddenly he whips around, eyes ablaze, and tosses a ball of sludge straight at Tony's head.

It hits its target flawlessly and Tony goes down with a thump. Loki cackles, clutching his belly, only stopping when he realizes Tony hasn't made a sound from behind the dumpster.

"Tony?" he says, unsure.

When there is no response, he crunches over to peer behind the dumpster. There, Tony is lying on his side, his back to Loki. The raven-haired boy immediately rushes over to him, turning him over to rest on his lap.

"Tony, are you okay?" There's blood all over his nose, and Loki realises that the snowball he'd thrown was more ice than anything.

"Hmm?" Tawny eyes flutter open. "Loki, hi. That was  _not_  playing by the rules. No iceballs allowed."

"Are you okay?" Concern creeps into Loki's voice despite himself.

Tony sits up, seemingly fine despite the bloody nose. "Yeah, no thanks to you." He pulls a tissue from his pocket and dabs at his nose.

Loki snatches the bloody tissue from his hands and starts wiping at Tony's nose himself, clearing the tan skin of crimson. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Psht, don't worry about it," Tony says.

Loki's fingers ghost over the other boy's skin, checking for fractures of the nasal bone. Tony leans into the touch, eyelids drifting shut. Beneath Loki's fingertips, the brunette's skin is cold from the snow and a bit red from the winter air. But there's a warmth beneath it, hovering just below the surface, that gives Loki a shuddery feeling up his spine.

His thumb drifts over to the side of Tony's nose, coming to rest just below his eye. There, the flesh is puffy and soft, like Tony hadn't slept the night before. The tawny-eyed boy sighs at the touch, his breath clouding out from between his lips.

Loki gets an overwhelming desire to throw him against the wall and suck that breath out of him and into his own lungs. He wants to take part of the boy before him and lock it away inside his ribcage.

Suddenly Tony sits up on his knees and takes Loki's hand, eyes opening again. A small smile graces his lips. "Hey, I have a question." His voice is barely above a whisper.

Loki looks suspicious, quirking an eyebrow. "I may or may not have an answer."

"You know winter break's next week, right?"

"Obviously."

"So," Tony starts, brushing his hands through his hair, "I'm having a New Year's party on... well, New Year's, and I want you to come." He shrugs, not meeting Loki's eyes. "There are usually a lot of people there, and it gets kind of crazy, and your brother usually shows, so I'd understand if you didn't want to-"

Loki puts a finger to the other boy's lips, silencing him with a "Shh. I'll think about it."

"Really?" The grin that spreads across Tony's face is sweet, Loki thinks, and it makes him feel guilty. He knows he can't go- Thor's going to be there, for starters, and he can think of a million different reasons- but it makes him sad to give Tony hope.

"I'll think about it," Loki repeats, his voice weak.

"Awesome," the other boy says, oblivious. He leaps to his feet and helps Loki do the same. He links arms with the raven-haired boy, opening the door to the school for him with a mock-curtsy.

They're greeted with a blast of warm air that does nothing to warm the cold pit of guilt in Loki's stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> Okay. This is where we start to get things rolling. Hmm... parties. Ehehehe.
> 
> Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! Things are backed up a bit for me right now, so sorry I'm taking longer than usual to respond to your reviews. I respond to all of them, so check your inboxes! ;)
> 
> Thanks to cara-tenaka, too, for being the best beta ever!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	15. Interlude: A Very Pugly Christmas

Christmas Eve is spent in a drunken stupor for Tony Stark, no different than any other year. He falls asleep finally on the surface of his worktable, drool puddling from between his lips.

Tony always spends Christmas alone. Somehow, gifts from his father never fail to appear beneath the overlarge tree in the morning but his father never shows himself. He always finds some reason to be away.

This year, Tony finds that he is not  _quite_  alone.

As he dozes on his workbench, he dreams that he is being assaulted by tiny purple octopi and that one is stuck to his face. Its slimy, sticky tentacles slick across his face and he tries to bat them away. His hands connect with something solid, and he starts awake with a shout.

"What the  _hell_ -"

His hands and face are covered in drool, but he can't tell if it's his own or if it's from the creature perched in front of him on the work table. Its pudgy body is nestled between the various tools and wires, tan and black and hairy. Small rolls of fat ring its neck and its eyes bug outwards above a stupid grin.

Tony runs a hand through his hair as the beast pants happily.

"Why is there a pug in my house?"

He pokes it and it barks, licking his finger. Tony pulls it back, offended. "Why are you in my house, pug?"

He notices the tag around its neck, and gingerly plucks it out from beneath a slobbery maw.

_Tony_

_It is time for you to gain some responsibility._

_There is dog food in the cabinet._

_Your Father_

Tony growls at his absent father, glaring at the ridiculous dog that is now apparently his to take care of. The pug tilts its head in response, its mouth still smiling. Suddenly it stands, hopping off the table and onto the floor gracelessly. It sniffs around a bit on the floor, regarding him with its buggy eyes.

"What are you looking at, dog? I don't know your name. Hell, I don't even know if you're a girl or a boy."

The dog yips and tumbles up the stairs outside his workroom. With a dejected sigh, Tony follows it, coming to the top of the stairs in the living room.

As soon as he sees what the dog is doing, it's too late. There's already a yellow stain on the carpet and up the arm of the chair.

He stumbles and tries to grab the pug, but it scrambles out of his reach.

Lying on the floor, the boy and his dog glare at each other. Well, one glares. The other keeps its stupid grin, tongue lolling out one side.

"Well, at least I know you're a boy dog."

The smile doesn't waver.

"I think I'll call you Happy." In response, Happy yips and lifts his leg again to the shoes resting on the edge of the room.

* * *

Loki's Christmas is spent just as unhappily as Tony's, although he wishes for the solitude that Tony enjoys.

Christmas Eve, Odin remains in an armchair in the living room, reading the financial times or watching some sport with Thor. Loki couldn't care less. He locks himself in his room, trying to drown out the sound of the television with one of his mother's old books.

When she died, before Loki could object, Thor and Odin had moved all of her books and films and records into boxes in the garage. After a monumental fight, Loki had won the right to move them back into the house, but only if he kept them in his room.

Odin's method of dealing with the loss of his wife is to forget about her as best he can. Loki, meanwhile, prefers to absorb her memory through her extensive library and music collection.

Christmas morning starts by Thor shaking him awake in bed. Loki begins to say something nasty to him but is stopped by an old memory tapping at his frontal lobe. It's of his mother reminding him, one Christmas eve when they were much smaller, to be kind to his brother during the holiday. Biting back the rude comment, he follows an overexcited Thor to the tree in the living room.

It's another hour before Odin allows them to begin opening gifts and by that time Thor is nearly bursting with excitement. Loki notices, with a rare reserved fondness, that Thor's excitement over Christmas hasn't lessened in the least since he was a child.

But instead of opening the gifts himself, Thor hands Loki a large box with a loose lid, a huge grin on his face. "I've been waiting to give this to you, brother."

Loki takes it carefully, a note of suspicion in his eyes. Lifting the lid, he stares at the contents with unabashed confusion.

The green-eyed kitten meows at him gently, nuzzling at the fingers curled over the side of the box.

"Its..." Loki starts, but is unsure what to say.

" _He_ ," Thor corrects. "He is a he. I hope you enjoy him, brother. He reminded me of you, and I thought you might need some company."

Loki lifts the small kitten out of the box gingerly, the soft fur tickling against his fingers as he places it-  _him_  - into his lap. The black kitten curls up immediately, nestling in the crook of Loki's knee.

"Thank you, Thor," he says softly. "I love it."

"You're very welcome. What will you name him?"

Loki only has to think a moment before he says, "Horatio." He lifts the kitten and looks into his wide green eyes with a rare smile. "A Horatio to my Hamlet," he whispers.

"What?" his father says.

"Nothing." He puts Horatio in his lap and the tiny black kitten falls asleep within minutes.

* * *

As Loki lies in his room that night, his bed littered with Christmas presents (a sweater and a book from some cousins, socks from his grandmother, a shaving kit from his father) he pets Horatio, who has quickly established himself in a spot flush against Loki's hip. Suddenly, his phone buzzes with a text.

_Merry xmas, hamlet._

Loki smiles, trying to think up a response to Tony's message. After a few tries, he settles with a simple,  _You too, Tony. And a Happy New Year._

_goodnight._

_Goodnight. Dream of sugarplum fairies and gumdrops, or however that ridiculous story goes._

_how about i dream of you instead? thats much better anyways._

_I should hope so, gumdrops are disgusting._

_hey, i like gumdrops._ Not a moment passes before it's followed up by another text, one that puts a cold lump of guilt in Loki's belly.  _cant wait to see u at my party on new yrs_

Loki decides that the best thing to do is not respond.

_sweet dreams loks_

Loki turns out his light that night with a warm cat on his chest and a smile on his face. He falls asleep to the shadows of snowflakes in the golden glow of the streetlight outside his window.

He doesn't dream.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest readers,
> 
> Here's a happy little Christmas chapter, a few months too late. Oh, well. A fluffy, cute-animal filled chapter before the shit hits the fan.
> 
> Steel yourselves for the next chapter.
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	16. All Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is where things start to get sort of dire. Trigger warnings for self-harm and alcohol stuff. Be careful, ladies and gents. Here there be monsters.

_Make no mistake_  
 _You shan't escape_  
 _Tethered and tied  
_ _There's nowhere to hide from me_

_All mine...  
_ _You have to be_

_Don't resist_  
 _We shall exist_  
 _Until the day I die  
_ _Until the day I die_

_\- All Mine_ by Portishead

* * *

After Christmas, Odin is gone again, to Japan this time, so it's just Loki and Thor and Horatio. Loki spends New Year's eve moping around the house, thinking of Tony's party that he's decidedly  _not_  wanting to go to. Thor is going, of course, and seems to be oblivious to the Loki's depression.

"Brother, I don't understand why it is that you cannot attend Anthony's party tonight."

Loki pulls the duvet wrapped around his shoulders a little tighter. "I'm tired, Thor. I just don't want to, it'll be too much effort."

Thor knits his blond brows together in worry, shifting on the other side of the couch. A terrible action movie on the television casts a sickly glow across his strong features. "Are you feeling all right brother? You used to enjoy parties, before..." he trails off. "Are you all right?" he asks again, softer this time.

Loki waves a hand dismissively. "I'm fine, fear not. Just tired." Horatio leaps onto the back of the couch, purring in Loki's ear.

Thor stands. "I must be going, brother. But remember, if you change your mind, Father has left his car in the garage."

"Thank you, Thor. Now go away."

Passing in front of the television, Thor ducks out the garage door and Loki can hear the car pull out the driveway. Loki lifts Horatio into his lap and tries to pay attention to the movie onscreen.

He can't focus, though, and attributes it to the terrible quality of the cinematography. After flipping through channel after channel of infomercials, he settles on watching the tail end of  _Doctor Who_.

After a few minutes of the Doctor's witty banter and a ridiculous alien chase scene, he feels a little better. The phone rings, and with a great sigh, Loki rises from the couch to pick it up in the kitchen. "Hello?"

"Hey, L. Miss me yet?"

Time stops.

Loki's chest suddenly feels like it's caving in, and he can't breathe. He brings a hand to his open mouth, slowly, as if he's stuck in slow-motion. The voice makes him shudder, both inside and out, and a dizzying series of images flash through his brain: bruises on his cheek in the mirror, broken needles, an abandoned building. He chokes out a desperate, "...h-how..."

"Did you really think you had gotten rid of me?" A smooth chuckle follows, disturbing in its light-heartedness. "No, L. I'm back. And I need something from you."

His throat is constricted, blocking the words from coming out. "I can't... I don't..."

"Aw, look, the pretentious bookworm is at a loss for words. How tragically ironic." Loki can hear the smile in his voice, and he knows that the man on the other end of the line is thoroughly enjoying Loki's anguish. "L, you did something mean to me, and now I want you to pay for it."

Loki doesn't say anything, just tries to ignore the pricking wetness behind his eyes.

"Remember when you got dumped at the hospital and they asked all those nasty questions about you and me and Vic and Aurora? And you told them, didn't you? You told them everything."

"I didn't. I didn't tell them where to find you, and they asked. They asked."

"But you told them everything else, and that's what counts, right dear?"

Loki shudders at the pet name. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to pay, remember? And if not you, then someone else. Your brother, maybe?" There's a tense silence as the threat hangs in the air.

Loki just focuses on breathing.

"But there's another option, L. A better option, as far as I'm concerned."

"What... what is it?" Loki whispers waveringly. He's afraid to ask.

"You could come back. I miss you, dear, and it wouldn't be like before. Aurora and Vic miss you, too."

"Thanos, I can't."

"Oh, yes, you can. You  _can_." A pause. "I can give you a month or so, you know where to reach me. And if you try anything,  _anything_  like last time, I will have a bullet through your brother's brain faster than you can blink."

No longer able to hold them back, Loki lets the tears spill down his face, hot and wet and salty. His lip quivers slightly.

"Ta ta, L. I'll be seeing you." With a click, the line goes dead, the tone pregnant with hopelessness.

Loki sinks to the floor and weeps.

* * *

Loki pulls himself up onto a kitchen chair, nearly collapsing in on himself with terror. His belly feels like it's going to escape his body through his throat, and his heart is surely going to  _thumpthump thumpthump_  him to death. Spots of wetness dot his green sweater.

Without quite knowing what he's doing, he rises from the chair and opens the cabinet above the sink. Inside, bottles of translucent and amber liquids are cluttered haphazardly.

He pauses, remembering a moment, the last time he had opened this cabinet.

His long fingers wrap around the neck of the nearest one, and, without checking the label, he takes a swig.

It burns all the way down his throat.

* * *

He finishes the bottle, just barely feeling the alcohol. Sitting on the bathroom floor, passing the empty bottle back and forth between his hands, he contemplates the enormous emptiness that has suddenly taken residence behind his ribcage. He feels so alone, so desperately hopeless.

Tracing the veins beneath his skin, Loki remembers. After his mother's death, he had felt exactly the same all-consuming hollowness. He is numb. He feels dead.

He remembers the feeling of her hand on his, delicately curled around his fingers on the gearshift. He remembers looking over to her, laughing at something he'd just said, and the way the other cars' lights reflected on her face in the dark.

He remembers the sudden, bright tunnel of oncoming headlights, and her beautiful smile morphing into a look of horror.

He remembers the pulse in her wrist fluttering away, like a bird let out of its cage, as he held her hand amongst the flames.

He remembers waking up in the hospital weeks later, alone in an anonymous room, firm in his belief that she was alive and well.

He remembers seeing the headstone. Finding out that they had already had the funeral, that they hadn't waited for him.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Bringing a hand up to his face, he wipes away the tears that are silently crawling down his cheek. He reaches a hand into the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out a blood-stained rag that shouldn't still be there. Unwrapping the once-white rag, he closes his fingers around the rectangle of savagely sharp metal.

As the razor bites into the skin of his wrist, he hisses quietly, throwing his head back against the tiled wall and reveling in the pain. Crimson beads along its sharp surface as he drags it across his wrist, his hand shaking slightly. The razor makes a pleasant, metallic noise as it hits the tiled floor, and he watches the red bloom on his alabaster skin.

It is the only thing that he can feel right now. The pain.

As the stinging starts to dull, he grasps the cut with his other hand, pressing into it with his thumb until he can't handle the agony inching up his thin wrist. He smiles coldly, slumped against the wall, as his eyes flutter shut.

He remembers the first day of school, and spying Tony doodling in his notebook, not paying attention as usual. The cold smile drops from Loki's face as he recalls the furtive ghosting of the other boy's fingers, treasuring the rough and well-used texture of the gentle pad of his thumb. His breathing evens out, becoming less sharp, and his shoulders slump.

_Tony._

_Tony's party is tonight._ Loki realizes the selfishness that attending the party would entail, and knows that it would eventually put Tony in great danger. But then again, Loki has always been the first to admit that he is selfish beyond repair.

Still, he decides, that he should at least suffer for it a little.

He picks up the razor again, priming its silver blade to slice into his skin just below the first cut.

* * *

He's in his room now, pulling a box out from beneath his bed. He was supposed to have thrown out its contents, but every time his hand hovers above the trash can, he stops himself. He doesn't know why, but he just can't bear to forget.

All the better, he supposes as he rifles through black and green and gold fabrics to find a bag lying near the bottom and sitting next to an old cigar box. With another glance at his gauze-wrapped wrist (the cuts were deeper than he'd meant and needed a bandage- it was the telling mistake of someone without much recent practice) he shuffles a few steps into the adjoining bathroom.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he takes in his puffy, red-rimmed eyes and cracked lips. He runs a black-painted nail over the scar on the bridge of his nose, and pulls his hair in a few different directions. Grabbing a few jars of dark powder and gel, he lays out his materials on the bathroom counter.

He decides to start with the eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,
> 
> Woah. Okay. Some stuff about Loki's past, finally. It'll trickle in for a few chapters, and then it will all be revealed! *pulls back curtain dramatically*
> 
> Aaaaaand... a whole lotta angst. I warned you. Poor baby ice prince. Don't you just want to give him a big ol' hug? Even I have feels about this chapter, and I wrote it. I'm in my room listening to Black Sabbath and Metallica to make me feel better (yes, Dean Winchester and I are kindred spirits when it comes to music).
> 
> Speaking of music, you guys who like Radiohead should listen to this chapter's band, Portishead (it's like Radiohead but with a lady singer with a voice almost as angelic as Thom's). This song is so perfect for Lolo and Thanos. And it's SUPER creepy. Yeesh.
> 
> I would really, really love some reviews, especially for this chapter. How am I doing? :)
> 
> Thanks to my faithful reviewers and my spectacular beta, cara-tanaka!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones
> 
> P.S. On AO3, I accidentally forgot the chapter called Hypnotise. It's fixed now, but I'm really sorry! I'm just technologically illiterate, apparently. It's chap. 13 now, and it's just an extra little baby chapter.


	17. Jerk It Out

_Coz it's easy once you know how it's done_   
_You can't stop now_   
_It's already begun_   
_You feel it_   
_Running through your bones_

_And you jerk it out_   
_And you jerk it out_

- _Jerk It Out_  by Caesars

* * *

Tony loves parties. As far as he's concerned, the bigger, the better. And no party is ever complete without copious amounts of alcohol and at least three noise complaints from the elderly neighbors.

However, he finds himself enjoying this party less than usual. Normally it's all about seeing how many beers he can consume and girls he can get with before passing out. But this time, he's just waiting for Loki to show.

The party is in full swing by the time Thor arrives, and, to Tony's disappointment, he arrives decidedly alone.

"Where's your brother?" Tony shouts over the din of music and screaming teenagers.

"He was tired, he said. He may appear later- Steven!" Thor practically jumps over Tony to get to Steve who is, of course, holding a bottle of non-alcoholic beer. The disappear into the throng of bodies together.

"Rude," Tony comments.

He lingers by the door, every passing moment without a certain raven-haired boy adding to the crushing disappointment in his chest. He gulps beer after beer nervously, and even turns down a few girls' offers to dance. Suddenly, Bruce appears next to him.

"You're waiting for him, aren't you." It wasn't a question, and it was clear who "he" was.

"No," Tony lies, taking another sip of his beer.

Bruce turns Tony's shoulder slightly so that they are face-to-face. "You need to stop moping and start having fun, Tony. This is your party."

Tony stares at him coldly, prompting a put-upon sigh from Bruce. "Fine, I won't force you to do what you don't want to do. But I don't want you to waste your time on him if he doesn't feel the same way."

"But he does," Tony insists.

Bruce shrugs. "Whatever, Tony. I'm going to go have a drink. You can come join the party when you decide the rest of us are worthy of your company." Without another word, he molds into the crowd.

"Well, shit," Tony mumbles, running his fingers through his hair.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Tony jumps up from sitting on the stairs and wades through the crowd, a hopeful tilt to his brows. It seems that every person in his house is standing between himself and that door, and by the time he actually reaches the handle, he's nearly tripped at least seven times.

It swings open on its hinges, pushing aside a weed-scented clump of kids.

"You came!" Tony nearly shouts.

"I did," Loki says, stepping inside the threshold.

Tony admires him, head to toe, with an unashamed gaze. Same boots and jacket as usual, but his pants seem to be made of some kind of black leather. They're revealingly tight, a fact Tony appreciates more and more with each glimpse he gets. Loki's torso is covered in a low, loose green tank top, which, when he slides his jacket off, reveal leanly muscled arms. His raven hair is swept back above his green eyes, which pop against the dark powder shadowing his lids.

He looks dangerously sexy. Tony whistles appreciatively, surprised at the makeup. Well, surprised at how much he likes the makeup. "Damn, you do clean up nice."

Loki smacks him on the arm with a smile.

"Want a drink?"

"Please," Loki says, pushing past Tony.

Tony smells a faint whiff of alcohol as he passes, but whether it's from Loki himself or any one of the other drunken teenagers, he can't tell. With an unconcerned shrug, he follows Loki to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

Clint has taken up residence behind the counter, standing on a stool above a sea of bottles. He's been serving as bartender for as long as Tony has been having these huge, uncontrollable parties. Which has been a long time.

"Clint, my man."

"Tony, what can I get you? I see your long-awaited guest has arrived." Clint hands a red plastic cup to a girl passing by.

"You waited for me?" Loki murmurs to him, a bemused smile on his face.

"No," Tony denies. Turning to Clint, he says, "I want a double whiskey. And Loki..."

"Vodka."

Sloshing liquids into the cups like a pro, Clint pours their drinks and hands them two red cups. "Have fun, y'all. You know where to find me."

"Thanks, Clint." Tony grabs Loki's hand in his own, leading him into the crowded living room. They sit side-by-side on the couch, squished together. Tony rubs Loki's fingers one by one. "Loks, your hands are frigid. How long were you outside?"

"I walked here," Loki says to him.

"Oh." Tony lays Loki's hand flat on his knee.

Suddenly, Thor appears before them. Loki jumps, pulling his hand out of Tony's grip, and almost sloshing his drink all over his lap.

"Brother, you made it!" Thor booms, waving his nearly-empty beer bottle. "I am glad." He turns over his shoulder, cupping a hand to his mouth. "Steven! Tony and my brother are over here!"

"Thanks for announcing it to the entire house," Tony grumbles, prompting a smile from the raven-haired boy. Loki laces his fingers with Tony's discreetly.

Steve appears, a smile on his face. "Tony! Where've you been?"

Tony nods his head towards Loki, who blinks at Steve. "I was waiting for him."

"Oh, okay. Hey, Tony. You haven't seen Peggy Carter anywhere, have you?"

Tony scoffs. "No. And dude, she's a junior."

Steve's shoulders fall slightly, but his smile doesn't waver. "I'll look for her somewhere else. She must be here somewhere." He turns away, wading through the sea of people. Thor gives some kind of a salute and follows him.

"Wow," Tony says to Loki. "How the hell did you get stuck with him?"

"Oh, he's not so bad," Loki says. He scoots a tiny bit closer to Tony so that the sides of their thighs are flush. Loki can feel the heat of Tony through the fabric separating them. "We used to fight a lot more. Before my mother died."

"Mmm," Tony says, closing his eyes and leaning against Loki. They're still and unmoving, a serene island in the din and chaos.

Loki breathes in the smell of Tony, the smell of dirt and sparks and whiskey and progress. His fluffy hair, tucked under Loki's chin, tickles his skin.

Suddenly, Tony sits up, a wide smile on his face. "Wanna dance, Hamlet?"

"No."

"Oh, come on." Tony widens his big brown eyes, pouting his lower lip. "Please?"

Loki crosses his arms. "No."

Tony just makes the face.

"Oh, fine. As long as you promise never to make that face ever again."

"We'll see," Tony smiles to him, dragging him to his feet. They wade through the crowd and into the atrium, where a DJ booth sits above the thrashing mass of bodies. Colored lights flash and heavy bass rocks the people around them. It reminds Tony a little of the oddly-colored pictures on Loki's phone.

"May I have this dance?" Tony asks, bowing to Loki.

The raven-haired boy rolls his eyes, but places his hand in Tony's outstretched palm, and they push into the crowd just as the song ends.

"Ready?" Tony asks.

"We'll see," Loki whispers to him, his hot breath tickling Tony's ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Dearest Readers,
> 
> My, it's been awhile, hasn't it? I won't bore you with the reasons for the extended radio silence, but just know it wasn't unwarranted.
> 
> Well, this chapter is just a wind-up for the next one. And you all must have guessed Loki would go to the party, right? ;) The song this time is just something fun and party-ish. Give it a listen.
> 
> Updates will be infrequent for the next two months (I have- excuse the language- a fuckton of things to get done).
> 
> Thanks as usual to my amazing beta, cara-tanaka, and all my fabulous reviewers. I love you all!
> 
> All my love,  
> RagAndBones


	18. Darker

_Bad snow freeze my throat_

_And numbs my soul_

_Eats me whole to pick me up_

_Thats where you know_

_Free to go_

_You call the jones_

_Makes me old before I'm old_

_Its all you love_

_Deep inside I know you love_

_The less I seem to know you love_

\-- _Darker_ by Doves

* * *

 

 

Loki looks toward the ceiling as if he’s thinking. He closes his eyes, seeming to center himself. Tony regards him curiously.

 

Green eyes snap open and suddenly Loki’s dancing.

 

He gazes up at Tony from under his eyelashes, lean arms slightly above his head. Biting his lower lip, a dark smile graces his lips. The music flows through him, hips swaying, lashes fluttering, and Tony can’t help but watch.

 

Loki’s poisonous eyes never leave his. Tony tries to dance along, but the sensual fluidity of Loki’s movements can’t be matched. The song deepens, bass dropping, and Loki drops too, nearly on the floor. His dancing gets wilder, spreading from hips to chest to shoulders. He circles Tony, predatory smile on his face.

 

Tony realizes people are starting to watch but he doesn’t care, moving in closer to Loki. The raven haired boy rises from the floor, hips gyrating, barely grazing Tony’s body, and god is it hot. Tony grabs Loki’s wrist, placing it center on his chest, and Loki smiles like Tony’s just given him the key to his heart.

 

The DJ is saying something, and a small circle has formed around them, and honestly Tony doesn’t notice. Loki is the only thing at that moment, and he brings his hand to tangle in tousled black hair. The other boy snakes his arms around Tony’s waist in return, fingers slipping lower and lower with every beat. They find their way into the waistband of his pants, pinkies hooked in the belt loops.

 

Loki spins, turning so that his back is flush with Tony’s chest. He rolls against the brown-haired boy, who nuzzles against his neck, spreading his fingers across Loki’s flat stomach under his shirt.

 

Tony loses himself in the feeling of Loki’s beating heart against his palms, the heat of his body pressed against his own, the toxicity of his green eyes. He lets go, allowing his fingers to explore the alabaster skin they’ve been longing for, calculating and measuring every inch. Loki’s chest is smooth and cool under his fingertips. His palms skate over the sides of the other boy’s torso, dipping down to the small of his back. Loki shudders into him, twining an arm around his neck.

 

The brunette presses his lips to the pale column of Loki’s throat, and he can feel the other boy hum with desire. It’s a sound that brings a smile to his face.

 

Suddenly, there is one final beat and the song ends.

 

Tony is immediately hyper-aware of Loki’s lean form pressed against his own, the intoxicating proximity of the other boy’s face. Loki stares at him, unsure of what to do. They’re both breathing hard, shining with sweat.

 

The music starts up again and the people around them begin to dance, bodies jostling them from every direction. Tony grabs Loki’s hand in his, pulling the other boy through the crowd and down the stairs.

 

They reach the workshop, and as Tony is punching in the security code, Loki searches his face anxiously for some kind of clue. It’s devoid of emotion, save for a slightly furrowed brow.

 

Tony pushes Loki inside, making him stumble into the nearest table. Tony steps inside after him and pulls the door shut, stalking straight over to Loki and holding his eyes with a fierce glare.

 

“Where the hell did you learn to dance like that?”

 

Loki is confused. “I... well...”

 

Tony walks across the room, pacing furiously. “You can’t do this to me, Loks.”

 

“Do what?”

 

Tony doesn’t respond, just cards a hand through his hair in frustration.

 

Loki calmly strides over to him and places a hand on his arm. “Tony.”

 

“No, Loki. I can’t help myself. I just...”

 

“Tony,” he repeats, more urgently this time.

 

“I want to... I want you. I’ve wanted you from-”

 

“I have a question for you, Tony.”

 

The brunette spins on his heel to face the black-haired boy, a worried expression on his face. “What?”

 

Loki steps forward, closing the space between them. He laces his fingers with Tony’s as their lips meet softly, pressing together in a chaste kiss. It is a question, and the one Tony’s been waiting to be asked.

 

As he steps back again, Loki smirks at the shock on Tony’s face.

 

“I,” says Tony, “am surprised. At... that.” He waves his hand demonstratively. He huffs a breath, trying to keep himself from falling apart. “I am--”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Loki hisses at him as they fall against each other, lips crashing together in want. Tony can taste the alcohol on Loki’s lips, but doesn’t think much of it. Loki’s cold fingers brush the side of his neck and Tony’s lips part unconsciously, fingers tangling in long black hair. Loki presses into him, shoving him against the work table as his tongue finds Tony’s, extracting a whimper from the brunette boy. He can feel Loki’s lips twist into a smile of triumph as his black-tipped fingers find their way under Tony’s shirt and Tony deepens the kiss with a groan.  
  
Loki bites Tony’s upper lip teasingly, followed in suit by nipping the lower as he draws lazy circles on the other boy’s belly with his finger. Suddenly he pulls away, examining Tony with his hooded green eyes. In this light he looks even more dangerous, his eyes even more intoxicating. Harsh shadows, cast by the dim workroom lights, mar his delicate features. “You really want to know where I learned to dance?”

 

Panting, Tony breathes, “Yes please.”

 

Loki grins at him. “Too bad. I’m not telling.”

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

“What?” Loki asks incredulously, “You think you can make me?”

  
Tony, in response, drags Loki back to his mouth with a dark chuckle. Pale hands grab his wrists, pinning them to the table, and a knee finds its way between his thighs. The brunette boy pushes so that he’s sitting on the table, and a few tools clang to the floor loudly. Loki’s hand runs up his thigh, coming to rest just between his legs.

 

Loki kisses along his jaw and Tony strains into the touch. He traces a line down the brunette’s neck, pressing little nipping kisses to his throat. Tony hums with pleasure, breathy sounds escaping his lips. Loki’s teeth bite harder, dragging along tanned skin, and Tony balls his hands into fists.

 

Loki takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork, eyes glancing down Tony’s neck. “Ooh,  that’s going to leave a mark,” he breathes, finger ghosting over the bite. He shrugs, giving a coy glance. “Oops.” His fingers trail up Tony’s leg, and brown eyes widen.

 

“Uh, Hamlet, are you sure you want to-- shit--”

 

Loki unbuttons Tony’s pants with a quick flick of his fingers, and suddenly he’s all hands and lips and teeth everywhere. Tony tries to keep up with him, but is overwhelmed in sensation, in fingertips, in pressure at all the right spots.

 

As soon as Tony knows what the other boy is doing, he lets himself go, lost in the feeling of Loki. He tumbles into want, into need, and lets Loki take control, and he wasn’t expecting the night to go like this, but god is he grateful it has, and his pent-up desire that’s taken shape over months is finally coming to bloom into something he can feel. His heart beats with Loki Loki Loki and with every breath he tries to inhale a little bit more of the boy that’s still not close enough. He wants him flush against his own body, wants their hearts to beat side-by-side against each other in the dim workroom lights.

 

“Oh my god, Loks-- ah- -don’t stop-” Tony begs, his fingers splayed wide on the metal table. The dark-haired boy gives a sinister chuckle, sucking on Tony’s throat, hands moving deftly below.

 

“Oh fuck-- mm--Hamlet-” Tony tilts his head back with a groan and Loki watches him come undone, the lines of his throat taught with his climax.

 

It hits Loki that this is the best he’s felt in weeks, in months.

 

Once Tony opens his eyes again, he shoots Loki a fiery glare. “Fuck you,” he hisses between heavy breaths.

 

“What?” Loki whispers urgently. “I thought that was what you wanted. I--”

 

“No, you idiot. Now I have to walk upstairs and get a change of clothes.” He sighs dejectedly, looking down at his messy pants. “I suppose it was worth it though.”

 

“What, a change of clothes for the best hand job you’ve ever had? I think it’s a fair trade.”

 

“Who said it was the best?”

 

Loki snorts. “I did.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes at him but doesn’t argue.

 

They don’t say anything for a few moments, just stare at each other. Loki traces the lines of Tony with his eyes, and Tony starts to register what just occurred. His thoughts are permeated with the idea of Loki, and wanting Loki, and having Loki, and Loki having him. These are things he’s thought of before, but now they feel possible, tangible, real.

 

“Did that really just happen?” he blurts.

 

Loki seems a bit shocked as well. “I think it did.”

 

After a moment, Tony adds, “Thank you.”

 

Delicate brows knit in confusion. “For what?”

 

“For the best New Years’ present I’ve ever had.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting all the chapters I have, and then I am abandoning this work.   
> :(


	19. Ritual Union

_Love’s sinking in the sand_

_Petals falling on demand_

_My feet are running like the wind_

_I’m sorry, boy that we sinned_

 

_Love is not like they say_

_A lie, that it’s hard to make it stay_

_It drowns my feelings in the sea_

_I dried out over on the beach_

 

\-- _Ritual Union_ by Little Dragon

* * *

 

 

Loki isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to do while Tony’s changing pants in the bathroom.

 

Perched on the edge of Tony’s bed, he closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He can’t think, not with the alcohol in his bloodstream and the traces of Tony on his skin. He knows that there was a reason he had kept his distance from the other boy, a reason why he had repressed the longing that crushed his chest every time those brown eyes met his, but he can’t remember what it was. He’s drunk on the feeling of skin against skin, and he almost itches for the sensation again.

 

Tony comes out of the bathroom, pulling on a new shirt and sporting slim black jeans. Loki’s heart leaps at the sight of him, and he stands without thinking. Tony watches him warily, looking concerned.

 

“What’s the matter, Tony?” Loki breathes to him. He wants more than anything to go over and kiss the worry off of his face, but doesn’t dare to break the tension of the space between them.

 

“I’m afraid you’ve changed your mind.”

 

“..my mind? About what?”

 

Tony pauses, turns slightly. “About me.”

 

Loki stares at him.

 

Suddenly, he’s chuckling, his voice velvety and low. He breaks out into a fit of giggles, clutching his stomach and sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

Tony is baffled. He paces over to Loki. He sits on the bed next to the other boy, placing a careful hand on his knee. He squeezes, once, unsure.

 

Suddenly, he’s on his back and Loki is leaning over him. Long hands are splayed on his chest and the pale boy’s irises burn into his own. Brown eyes widen at the malicious grin on Loki’s face.

 

Tony gulps.

 

This time, Loki is slow and deliberate, lowering his pelvis to be flush with the other boy’s. He stretches, catlike, over Tony, and runs his hands up his muscled arms to pin the brunette’s wrists to the bed. Bringing his lips to the shell of Tony’s ear, he sucks on his earlobe and begins to work his way down the other boy’s throat.

 

Tony’s fingers ghost over Loki’s sides, tickling him slightly. His hands slide up the flesh of his pale back, running over the knobs of his spine. Thumbs trace the lines of his pelvis and slip into the edge of his waistband.

 

Loki sits up, holding Tony’s gaze a few moments before sliding his hands up the other boy’s chest. He yanks Tony’s freshly-changes shirt over his head, sending it to the other end of the bed. Loki begins the process of mapping Tony with his fingers and his eyes, running his cold hands over Tony’s hard muscle. He sees a small, pinkish scar just above his hipbone.

 

Sucking gently on the other boy’s collarbone, Loki moves his way down his chest, his tongue searing into tanned skin. He runs his teeth over the scar.

 

Tony gasps as Loki moves past his navel, and he can feel the raven-haired boy sucking on the edge of the V of his pelvis. “Mmm, Loki.”

 

“Yes?” Loki’s at his throat again, teeth against skin.

 

“Why is your wrist all bandaged?”

 

Loki sits up, a shadow in his eyes. He brushes a strand of inky hair out of his face with a sigh. When he meets Tony’s gaze again, he says, “To be or not to be, that is the question.”

 

“What?” Tony blurts, not sure he heard right.

 

Loki bites the lobe of Tony’s ear again, whispering into the soft shell, “To be or not to be, that is the question.” His voice is low and forbidden, sending a coil of heat down Tony’s belly.

 

His hands drift downwards, thumbs brushing over Tony’s nipples as they pass. Tony gasps a breath and his pupils dilate.

 

“Whether ‘tis nobler in the mid to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune-” his mouth trails down Tony’s sternum, cool lips burning a path over soft skin.

 

“Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them.” Loki’s fingers clench the hard muscles of Tony’s arms, digging into the flesh with want.

 

“Shit, Loki, now I’m going to have some kind of weird- ah- weird Shakespeare fetish-” he breathes, cut off by a long finger over his lips.

 

“To die, to sleep--

No more--and by a sleep to say we end

The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to.” Tony shucks Loki’s shirt off and straddles his hips, bringing them as close as he can. He longs for the feeling of Loki’s heart beating against his own, and as Loki’s tongue deftly maneuvers across his skin, he digs into the milky white of the pale boy’s lean back. His chest is riddled with odd scars, and there’s a deep pockmark near his armpit.

 

“'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished,” Loki gasps as Tony’s fingernails rake down his spine, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

 

“To die, to sleep--

To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub.” Loki’s tongue brushes the edge of the other boy’s jeans and he unbuttons them with his teeth.

 

“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil--” Loki whispers into the tender skin above Tony’s pelvis. Tony is breathing hard, panting, and running his fingers through the hair on Loki’s head as it dips lower, nestled between his legs.

 

“...Must give us pause,” he finishes, and takes Tony into his mouth as the other boy moans.

 

Suddenly, there’s a knocking on the door and it swings open. Tony and Loki freeze as Clint stumbles into the room, towing Natasha Romanoff by the hand. At first, they don’t notice the two boys on the bed, and press against the wall together, their mouths finding each other in the dim room. But when Natasha sees them, she shoves Clint away and her mouth falls open. Clint, turning to see what she’s staring at, makes a shocked grunting noise.

 

Tony zips up his pants.

 

They’re both half-naked and in a somewhat compromising position before Loki sits up, regarding Clint coolly. “Hello, Barton.”

 

“Uh,” Clint replies eloquently.

 

“Hi Natasha,” Tony says pleasantly, adding a little wave of his fingers.

 

Natasha just stares.

 

“What’s going on?” Bruce says, appearing in the doorway. “I was on my way to the bathroom and-” he falters, seeing the shirtlessness of both Tony and Loki, and their unmistakable mussed-up hair. “Oh.”

 

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Tony says.

 

“On the contrary,” Loki says. His voice is totally smooth, and he seems utterly calm. “This is exactly what it looks like.”

 

Clint clears his throat and grabs Natasha’s hand. “C’mon, Nat. We should go.” They shuffle out of the room as fast as they can.

 

Tony slides off the bed, going to lean against the doorframe. Bruce eyes him with a smirk that says, I guess he does feel the same way, you sly bastard. Loki is oblivious.

 

“Do you think they’ll tell anyone?” Tony asks.

 

“I don’t know, Tony. Clint may be an idiot, but he’s not stupid. I think you’re safe.” Bruce sighs, adjusting his glasses. “I’m assuming Thor doesn’t know.”

 

“He knows nothing,” Loki says dangerously, “and it must remain that way.”

 

“Got it.” Bruce looks at the floor a moment, listening to the muffled music coming from the basement. “You guys should get back, before people start wondering where you’ve gone.” He slides out of the room, closing the door with a curt nod.

 

Tony turns back to Loki and grins at him. “I think that went well.”

 

“Bruce is...” Loki struggles for words. “Bruce is always unfazed.”

 

“Yeah, that’s why he’s my best friend. Or was, before your sorry ass came along.”

 

“Does he resent me for that?”

 

“Nah. Bruce isn’t the resenting type.” Tony picks up his shirt off the floor and pulls it on, offering a hand to the other boy. “Let’s go downstairs, Bruce is right. We should head back before your brother wonders where you’ve gone.”

 

“And before you need another change of pants,” Loki replies.

 

* * *

 

 

When they get downstairs, Steve bounds up to them, a worried look on his face. “There you are, Loki. I’ve been looking for you. Thor’s passed out and I think you should take him home.”

 

Loki sighs dejectedly. “Will you help me carry him to the car?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve answers. “He’s on the front step.”

 

Turning to Tony, Loki’s eyes flick over his face, down to his lips. “I guess this is it, Stark. I’ll see you after the break.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, and he longs to kiss the other boy goodbye. Instead, he just settles for brushing the raven hair out of his face. “See you after the break. Text me.”

 

“I will,” Loki says, and he closes the front door behind him.

 


	20. Almost Lover

_Goodbye, my almost lover_

_Goodbye, my hopeless dream_

_I'm trying not to think about you_

_Can't you just let me be?_

_So long, my luckless romance_

_My back is turned on you_

_I should've known you'd bring me heartache_

_Almost lovers always do_

\-- _Almost Lover_ by A Fine Frenzy

 

* * *

 

When Loki awakes the next morning, he has no idea where he is.

 

After a few moments, however, he recognizes his own emerald sheets and the familiar sunlight streaming through his window. As he turns his head to look at the clock, needles of pain shoot through his temple. He groans. Hangover.

 

Sliding off the bed, he pads into the bathroom and pulls off his clothes. His feet slap against the tiles of the shower floor and he scrubs himself raw, desperate to get rid of the sleep in his limbs. He tries to remember why he’s so tired and hungover, but the events of last night are a blur in the back of his brain.

 

He remembers watching Thor leave for Tony’s party, and sitting on the couch with Horatio. The phone rang, and--

 

The phone call.

 

An aching pain blooms in his chest as the events of the previous night all come in a rush of images and snippets of conversation. Clutching his arms, he tries to make himself smaller at the memory of it.

 

Then he recalls the heat of Tony’s skin and the softness of his lips. Tipping his head back, he lets the scalding water run over his face and down the pale column of his throat.

 

It’s almost painful, being separate from those rough hands across his flesh.

 

I want you to pay. And if not you, then someone else.

 

He shudders. Tony is in danger. The more time Loki spends with him, the closer Tony is to being taken from him. And last night, by giving in and losing himself in Tony, Loki put his life in danger.

 

A sob racks through Loki’s lean body, the sound empty and mournful under the rush of water. He tries to fold in on himself, tries to disappear into nothing. He collapses into silent tears, his thin shoulders shaking with remorse.

 

He stands in the shower until the water goes cold.

 

* * *

 

When he gets out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist, he catches sight of his naked torso in the mirror. The skin, normally milky white, is marred by red fingernail marks and purpling bruises in the shape of teeth. Scattered across his throat is a line of bruises, reminders of the night before.

 

Droplets of water snake between the bruises, trailing wetly down his chest.

 

He presses into one of the hickeys with a finger, his breath catching at the pain that shoots down his spine.

 

* * *

 

Loki lays in bed until he hears knuckles rapping on his door.

 

“Loki, brother? Are you awake?”

 

Loki swallows, his tongue thick in his mouth. “Come in, Thor.”

 

The edge of the bed sags with Thor’s weight. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me home while I was unconscious.”

 

“You were awake when we got home, thank god. I definitely would not have been able to carry you upstairs.”

 

“I remember not.” Thor sighs, his eyes running over the contents of Loki’s room. “Are you all right, brother? It is unusual for you to remain in bed all day.”

 

“I’m just hung over, Thor. I want to be left alone.” He turns over so that his back is to the blond boy.

 

“All right, brother,” Thor says, awkwardly patting Loki’s knee. “I shall leave you to rest.” The door closes behind him.

 

Loki sits up, picking a book up off his bedside table as his phone chirps with a text from Tony.

 

hi loki

 

Loki picks it up and puts it down again, trying to decide what to say, if anything. After a while of deliberation, he slides open the drawer of his bedside table and drops the phone inside.

 

He tries to forget everything as he curls up between the sheets.

 

* * *

 

When Loki doesn’t text back, Tony worries.

 

When Tony worries, he almost always decides to find comfort in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s so concerned. It isn’t the first time that conversation has ceased after some kind of lusty drunkenness.

 

Maybe that’s the reason why he’s so stressed. He’s afraid that it wasn’t Loki talking last night, but the alcohol, instead.

 

Tony takes another swig of whiskey and resolves not to think about it anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony texts Loki three times after that over the rest of break, and every text goes unanswered. Loki barely leaves his room, mostly spending his time sleeping fitfully, plagued by nightmares. Thor stops coming in after the first few days except to remind him to eat.

 

It’s in the middle of the night when he’s lying awake in a tangle of black bedsheets, that he comes to the solution.

 

He swings his legs off the side of the bed and sits on the edge, his long, pale torso bathed in white moonlight. His hands find one of the many orange bottles on his bedside, and he rattles the pills inside absentmindedly.

 

His mind suddenly calms, its roiling thoughts now smooth and clear as glass.

 

Loki knows what he has to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I've got folks. See ya on the flip side.


End file.
